


Say It Somehow

by frenchkiss



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Actor Louis Tomlinson, Also brief mentions only but it's long since over between them lmao, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bullying, Domestic Fluff, Falling In Love, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Minor Kendall Jenner/Harry Styles, Multiple Orgasms, Past Abuse, Rimming, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Technician Harry Styles, V brief mention of but will be tagged in chapter notes, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:06:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 129,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27270148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frenchkiss/pseuds/frenchkiss
Summary: Louis Tomlinson may be one of the most respected actors on the West End, but he's terrible at knowing how to act around Harry Styles.The story of two people who find each other at just the right time, featuring first dates, sleepovers, heartbreak, lots of sex, baked goods, overpriced bedsheets, and musical theatre references galore.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan/Hailee Steinfeld, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 26
Kudos: 169





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't planning to write anymore fics and then lockdown happened and this grew and grew into the monster it is today so enjoy!!! I hope you love it as much as I've enjoyed writing it - my creativity has been rekindled and I love that for me. 
> 
> I love the theatre so much and miss it - please support your local arts venue in these crap times and remember that if you're an arts professional like myself that your job is important and valid and you contribute to culture and the economy more than you're given credit for!!!!!!
> 
> TYSM to my lovely amazing wonderful cheerleaders and betas @rainbwlouis & @princesgambit i love u

**‘The course of true love never did run smooth’**

**(A Midsummer Night’s Dream – Act 1, Scene 2)**

  
  


“To Louis!”

“To me!” Louis stands up and bows theatrically, blowing kisses to the other three at the table. He takes a hearty swig of his wine as he plops back down, curling his arm around the back of Lottie’s chair. “The best Mormon the West End has ever seen.”

“Probably one of the only Mormons the West End has ever seen,” Liam remarks from across the table. He pours more wine into his glass, then Zayn’s, then Louis’s. “Doesn’t feel very Mormon to been drinking so much wine.”

“Good thing you’re just gonna be the Stage Manager then,” Louis counters, nodding to accept the wine. “And, you know, the fact that you’re gay and married to a Muslim and…”

“Yes, thank you, Louis,” Liam tuts. Zayn snorts.

“Please, Lou. Deputy Stage Manager, _please_. He doesn’t need a bigger head than he already has.”

“Thanks, babe,” Liam drawls sardonically, but he kisses Zayn on the temple anyway.

“How the three of you landed a show altogether, let alone this show, is truly a miracle, I swear,” Lottie says with a snort. “Did they know you all knew each other before they hired you?”

“They knew I knew Liam,” Louis says. 

“That’s because he saw me down the backstage corridor and yelled _Oi Oi_ at me,” Liam says dryly. 

“They had to know what they were getting themselves in for,” Louis says sagely, ripping off a corner of his bread roll and reaching for the butter. “God, I can’t believe I’m going to be in _The Book of Mormon_. The Book of motherfucking Mormon!”

“I can’t believe it either,” Liam grins at him proudly, a pleased and knowing smile that Louis knows well and loves. Liam’s been his best friend since they were both fresh-faced Year 7s, paired together in a science class they both knew they’d suck at, and he’s been with Louis through everything. There’s literally nobody else Louis would rather have across the table right now than his best friend, and the best part of it all is that they’re about to work together again - Louis as the lead role and Liam as the Deputy Stage Manager. Zayn, Louis’s other best friend (and Liam’s husband), had also then snagged the role as Costumes Designer and Wardrobe Master on both of their recommendations. Louis thinks this might very well be the best job he’ll ever have.

Playing his dream role, Elder Price in _The Book of Mormon_ on the West End at the age of 26, with his two best friends right beside him. It’s all Louis has ever dreamed of.

“Look at us,” Zayn beams, cuddling into Liam’s side and hooking an ankle round Louis’s under the table. “The greatest team the West End has ever seen.”

“You guys are cute as shit,” Lottie coos. Though not a West End-er herself, Lottie works in London too, running her own tanning brand. Louis is so grateful she’s only a Tube ride away these days. “So explain to me the difference between Stage Manager and Deputy Stage Manager.”

“The Stage Manager is usually the technical lead,” Louis explains. “The theatre’s Tech Manager is likely to be the Stage Manager on this show because he’ll know the theatre building, their built-in controls, their staff, that kind of thing. What our dear lovely Liam is doing is the cue controls, so he’ll have his own fun little set-up and a headset and he basically talks every member of the backstage team through the show as it’s happening. He’ll also be making sure that everything looks good from a show perspective, like all the blocking and choreography looks good as isn’t affecting the lights or the set, you know, things like that. He’s pretty important, would you believe?”

“I would believe, actually,” Lottie laughs. “Between the three of you, the only one I’d trust with anything truly technical is Payno.”

“Oi,” both Zayn and Louis crow indignantly. Liam hoots a loud laugh.

“Cheers, Lotts.” He glances sardonically between the pair of them. “Oh, come on Lou. Let’s face it - and I say this with love - you’re an incredible performer but you wouldn’t know the first thing about backstage work.”

“Fuck you,” Louis chirps, mouth full of bread. He’s going to eat up as best he can now because when he’s actually performing he’s really strict with himself, cutting out dairy and alcohol for the entire run. It’s the worst part about his job, in his humble opinion, even worse than giving up evenings and weekends and pretty much only living to work for those few months. “I could do what you do in my sleep, lad.” 

It’s a total lie and a bit of a running joke between them all - he could never do what Liam does in a million years - but a couple of years ago they’d bumped into a bloke from their secondary school in a restaurant back home and he’d been absolutely baffled by Liam’s job, asking why they needed someone specific to press a few buttons while the show was going on and couldn’t a machine do that these days? Liam had been so affronted and both Louis and Zayn had laughed until they’d cried. 

“When do rehearsals start?” Lottie asks with an eye roll, changing the subject before Liam goes in a huff.

“First week of March,” Louis tells her. “We have ten weeks of Monday to Friday, full day rehearsals in the venue with all the cast and the crew, then we kick off in May.”

Lottie nods. “And how long is the run?”

“Until the first week of November,” Liam says with a groan. “It’s a bloody long run, this one.”

“Jesus,” Lottie mutters, taking a sip of wine. “And you guys don’t get any time off?”

“We’ll get weekends as normal until May, but then no time off between then and November,” Louis explains. “Oh, actually I think we get the bank holiday weekend in August off.”

“We get a week in August off, mate,” Zayn says gleefully. “Half term break. I’m already buzzing for it.”

“Do we actually? _Sick.”_

“I don’t know how you do it,” Lottie says with a shake of her head. “Is it eight shows a week as well?”

“Oh yes,” Louis drawls. “Mondays as our one day off every week, then a show Tuesday night, Wednesday night, Thursday night, Friday night, Saturday matinee and night, Sunday matinee and night.”

“Fucking Christ,” Lottie swears. “I think I’d die from exhaustion.”

“It’s worth every minute,” Louis says wistfully, and he means it. There’s nothing he loves more in this world than his job - getting up on stage and performing has been his whole life since he was a young lad, and being able to tick off one of his absolute dream roles off his bucket list feels fucking amazing. The only way to go from here is up, he knows it. “I wouldn’t want to be doing anything else.”

“Speak for yourself,” Zayn scoffs around a mouthful of bread. “You get paid enough for it to be totally worth your while, knob.”

Now it’s Louis’s turn to scoff. “First of all, I can't help being the star.” He strikes a pose for comedic effect and Liam laughs until a glare from Zayn shuts him up. “Second of all, I’ve read your contract and your pay is bloody good too, jerkface.”

“He’s only sulking because he thought we’d be missing Safaa’s wedding with the whole ‘no holiday under any circumstances’ clause,” Liam tells him. “But we’re not, it falls nicely between that week in August.”

“Can you imagine?” Zayn drawls. “I’d literally have to _quit_. There’s no way in hell my mother would allow me to miss my little sister’s wedding.”

Their food arrives then and they all tuck in, conversation switching over to what Lottie’s doing now she’s back in London full time. Louis treasures the way his best friends adore his sister; and for a bit he stays quiet while he eats, letting Lottie fill them in on what she’s doing now she’s started her own brand.

The tanning brand Lottie now runs full-time was actually the brainchild of their sister, Fizzy, who they lost suddenly about a year ago. She was brazen, loud, and didn’t ever care to mince her words, especially to her siblings. She’d told Lottie in no uncertain terms that she should start her brand or Fizzy would never let her forget it. 

Louis remembers the night the idea was born, the three of them sat together in their mum’s back garden the night before they all had to move out their childhood home for good. The house was sold, their younger siblings moving in with their respective dads, and the three of them were about to go back to normality after losing their mum. Louis had ended up dropping out of his role in the play he was in, Fizzy had taken a gap year before starting uni, and Lottie was miserable about having to go back to a normal job that she didn’t much care about at their local salon.

“I just don’t understand how I’m meant to go back to blending bloody eyeshadow on stressed out Year 11s going to prom when I literally don’t have a mum anymore,” she complained, then took a long drag of the joint they were all sharing. “Like, get a real problem, you know? You’re not going to see Callum from your maths class next year in sixth form but I’ll never see my mum again. It’s fucking unbelievable.”

“So quit,” Fizzy said, shrugging her shoulders. Both Louis and Lottie just stared at her for a few seconds, so she shrugged again. “Look, Lotts, that job is garbage and you know it. You hated it before Mum died, so just quit.”

“And do what, Fizz?”

“Something that you wanna do,” Fizzy said, accepting the joint. She took a long hit. “Not to sound obnoxious or anything but we’re selling this place tomorrow, right? We’re each about to get more money than we’ve ever had before, so why not put it into something worthwhile?” She shrugs. “You’ve always talked about starting a beauty brand, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t actually mean it,” Lottie said, looking at Fizzy like she’d grown three heads. “I know fuck all about business.”

“So learn,” Fizzy said, rolling her eyes. “Take a night course, get a business partner, just…” She looked her up and down. “Don’t spend the rest of your life complaining about working in that pissing salon if you’re not going to do anything about it.”

Louis doubts she ever anticipated that Lottie’s brand would grow to the size it has, nor that Lottie would go from being a slightly stuck-up, spoiled young girl into a professional, strong-willed and brilliant businesswoman. Even though the sisters had been thick as thieves, they’d also wind each other up to no end because Fizzy was a bit too blunt sometimes and Lottie was a bit too ditzy and it would drive them to fight like cats and dogs. But despite all that, there’s nothing the two of them wouldn’t have done for each other, and Louis is half convinced that Lottie’s business is so successful because her main drive is to make both their mother and sister proud.

He thinks that probably also plays a significant role in his drive as well. On her deathbed, his mother had made him promise that he wouldn’t ever stop auditioning until he’d played every part he wanted to, and he was never one to deny her anything when she was alive.

He misses them both so fucking much he feels like his heart physically aches with it sometimes.

Back to now, despite the pang of sadness that always hits him hard when he thinks about just how much he wishes things were different, that they were here with him, he sits quietly and enjoys his steak and chips, relishing in the fact that he’s able to celebrate with his three favourite people in the world. 

The job of his dreams starts in only a few weeks and he gets to work with his best friends on a show he’s loved and dreamed of starring in since uni, when the three of them watched a dodgy bootleg of the original Broadway version that Zayn had downloaded to his computer. He’s earning more money than ever before, he’s able to comfortably live in central London, and he’s _happy_ \- really, truly happy - for the first time in years.

He has a lot to be thankful for and lots of good things going on in his life, and even though it’s taken him a while to come to terms with this, he’s pretty much here now, and so ready to start his new chapter.

The only way from here is up.


	2. II

**‘Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?’**

**(As You Like It – Act 3, Scene 5)**

Louis meets Harry on a Monday.

It’s a dreary March day when rehearsals kick off for  _ The Book of Mormon _ and Louis is running uncharacteristically late. He’s never one to be late - it’s one of his pet peeves, actually - but for some reason this morning everything is going against him. He dribbles tea down his grey t-shirt, cuts himself while shaving and he just  _ cannot  _ get his hair to sit right, so he ends up shoving a beanie that doesn’t match his outfit on his head out of frustration.

He forgoes the trip to Costa he’d originally factored into his morning plans because he no longer has time for it and heads straight to the theatre. Being late on your first day is never good in any job, but typically on days like today he’ll be introduced to everyone from his fellow cast members to the office staff and stagehands, so he wants to make a good impression.

Luckily he makes it into the theatre just in time to join Zayn and Liam, who are of course already there, before they’re all ushered into the smaller performance space at the back of the venue to get started. 

That’s when Louis first lays eyes on the man that’ll change his life forever.

The bloke is tall, maybe a head taller than Louis, with soft curls and a hoop pierced through each earlobe and a  _ really  _ nice mouth. He’s wearing a purple shirt, unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and there’s a cross necklace hanging low between his nipples. His jeans are tight, his boots have a heel to them, and there’s pink and black nail polish painted on alternate fingernails. 

He’s literally one of the most beautiful people Louis has ever seen in real life without a shadow of a doubt.

Louis kind of wants to  _ lick _ him. 

“Liam,” he hisses, fingers digging into his friend’s elbow. “Liam, who is that man?”

“What man?” Liam asks, then shrugs when Louis tilts his head in Mystery Man’s direction. “No idea, mate, why?”

“No reason,” Louis says, immediately snapping back to nonchalance. He doesn’t need this on his first day working on the biggest show of his life, he really doesn’t. “He just looks like someone I worked with in the States, that’s all.”

“Sounds like a reason to me,” Liam says sagely, and Louis has to use extreme self-control not to step on his toe.

“Good morning!” Ben, the theatre’s exec director steps forward into the middle of the circle and claps his hands. “Welcome everybody, or should I say _ Hello! _ ”

He sings it in the same tune as the show’s opening song and everyone laughs politely. Louis grins as the hot bloke honks a laugh and his nose scrunches up adorably. 

“I know a few of you have worked together before and a few of you will know names from other productions, so let’s go around the circle and make introductions so we know each other at least on a first name basis. Then after this we can split off into the groups we need to and go from there! So I’ll start— I’m Ben and I’m the theatre’s Executive Director.”

He then points to James to continue round the circle. “Hi, I’m James and hopefully all of you already know who I am as I’m about to direct this show!”

Everyone laughs again. Louis just can’t take his eyes off this bloke. 

“I’m Jesy, I’m the choreographer,” says the gorgeous girl opposite Louis.

“I’m Jade, I’m the theatre’s Marketing & Social Media Manager,” says the equally gorgeous girl next to her.

“I’m Perrie, I’m the Wardrobe Assistant.”

“I’m Zayn, I’m Lead Costume Designer and Wardrobe Master.”

“I’m Liam, I’m the Deputy Stage Manager,” says Liam, then turns to look at Louis, as does the rest of the room.

“My name’s Louis and I’m playing Elder Price,” he says with an awkward wave. He wants to mentally facepalm for being such an awkward prick, but luckily nobody seems to notice or care and they move around the circle to the next person—Neil, is it? Louis vaguely remembers his face from their auditions. 

“M’name’s Niall, I’m Irish, but don’t you worry, I won’t sound like this when I’m playing Elder Cunnigham,” he chortles, Irish accent thick. Everyone cackles and he pretends to swoon. 

“I’m Leigh-Anne and I’m going to be playing the role of Nabulungi,” says the next girl along. Louis recognises her from the auditions as well - she’s bloody stunning and visually she’s an absolutely perfect fit for the role. He doesn’t mean to toot his own horn but looking at the three main characters - him, Leigh-Anne and Niall - he feels really good already. 

They move around the circle further and the rest of the cast introduce themselves, then they get onto the backstage technicians and finally it’s the turn of the bloke Louis’s pretty much been staring at non-stop for the entire introduction.

“Hi, I’m Harry,” he says in a deep gravelly voice that Louis was absolutely not ready for. “And I’m the Junior Sound Technician.”

_ Harry. _

“Fuck,” Louis curses under his breath. The name suits him - he looks like a Harry - but Harry is also very similar to the name of someone he never wants to think about again, and if Harry ends up being a nickname for that name then he’s giving up on men forever.

He will  _ never _ have a crush on anyone called  _ Henry _ ever again, that’s for fucking sure.

Once all introductions are done, everyone has an opportunity to mingle for a bit and get to know each other before they split up into their relevant departments and all the actors head off to do a script read. 

So Louis does what any rational grown-up who thinks a total stranger he’s never spoken to before is kind of hot and will also have to work with for the next eight months would do, which is bound over to him before either Zayn or Liam and stop him to find out his full name. 

“Hi,” Louis says, holding out his hand for Harry to shake. “I’m Louis and I’d like to know if Harry is short for Henry or if it’s short for Harold.”

“Um,” Harry replies, taking Louis’s hand and shaking it confusedly. Louis pointedly doesn’t look at how Harry’s hand is massive and completely engulfs his own. “It’s not short for anything?”

“It isn’t?”’

“No?” Harry says, phrasing it like a question. “I’m just Harry?”

Louis blinks at him. “Amazing,” he breathes out, like a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank god.”

“Um,” Harry says dumbly. They’re still holding hands. “Thanks?”

Liam clears his throat behind them, which wakes Louis up enough to drop Harry’s hand and to (mostly) stifle the embarrassed giggle that is threatening to come out of him. “Brilliant,” he says loudly. “Wonderful. Amazing. Thank you, young Harry.”

“What’s going on?” Harry asks curiously. He doesn’t seem annoyed or anything, just baffled. “Was that… am I…?”

“ _ You _ are brilliant,” Louis says, then mentally smacks himself around the back of the head. Is he okay,  _ honestly.  _ “I, um, I need to go and find my dressing room now. See you around?”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry says. His brows are furrowed and his nose is scrunched up, still clearly very confused. If Louis were a stronger man he’d say he looks adorable. 

Turns out he’s not - he’s a coward with the beginnings of a crush.

“You won’t be shown your dressing room until this afternoon,” Liam tells him, raising an eyebrow. “What are you on about?”

“Liam, darling,” Zayn jumps in quickly before Louis can murder him. He’s always been the more perceptive of the two, thank god. “Come here a minute, babe.”

Behind them, Harry asks, “Oh, you two are together?”

“Yeah,” Liam beams at him. “Sorry, I don’t think we were properly introduced at the backstage team induction day last week. I’m Liam and this is Zayn, my husband.”

“Oh, I wasn’t there last week,” Harry says as he takes Liam’s proffered hand. “I literally only finished my last job on Saturday so I didn’t get to go. I’m Harry, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry,” Liam says, over-pronouncing his name in a way Louis knows is aimed at him. “I’m the Deputy Stage Manager, so I think you and I will be working together a fair bit.”

“Cool,” Harry says. Louis wonders if he imagines Harry’s eyes shooting back to him before he gets called away by Steve, the Technical Manager, and just like that he’s gone.

Louis feels  _ weird  _ about this bloke. 

The rest of the morning involves awkward ice-breaker activities before they break for lunch. Once they’ve eaten they’re given a venue tour by Ben and then they’re assigned their dressing rooms.

Louis and Niall are sharing a dressing room, which Louis is kind of excited about. Niall seems like a top lad and the second the door is closed he produces two packs of Malteasers and three Kit-Kats from his pocket, offering one to Louis.

“I had to gain like two stone for this role and I’m maintaining it as best I can,” he says happily as he rips open a Kit-Kat and chomps a huge piece off without snapping the wafers in half. “So there’s always gonna be snacks in here, I  _ promise _ you that.”

Louis grins. Niall is going to be a  _ great  _ dressing room buddy.

Day one of a new production is always a long one and he sadly doesn’t get to see Harry again, so once they’re all dismissed at around 5 o’clock he heads off home and has an early night, sulking into a takeaway about how much of a tit he made of himself in front of the most beautiful man he’s ever seen.

Harry must be sitting at home thinking he’s a right loony, honestly. 

Day two is also not super interesting— they do another full script read and then divide off into groups to work with Julian, their vocal coach, for voice warm-ups before they trial singing a few of the songs to see their ranges and hear how their voices sound together. As expected, Louis, Niall and Leigh-Anne spend the whole day together and he finds himself falling into an easy friendship with the both of them from the get-go— Niall is larger than life and will literally laugh at anything while Leigh-Anne has a much drier, more clever sense of humour and a filthy mouth. When they wrap up for the day Niall suggests they all go and grab dinner together to get to know each other outside of work, which leads to an evening of good wine and great company that Louis hasn’t found on very many of the shows he’s worked on.

Day three sees his first day actually working with technicians, which includes Harry, of course. Harry’s job seems to be a lot about sound levelling and managing the microphones they’ll be wearing as they perform, so once he’s greeted the three of them on the stage he does a lot of moving back and forth between them and his mixing desk, making sure their mics are going to pick up their singing and speaking voices perfectly.

They’re just getting ready to do their first set of vocal warm-ups, Harry standing between Louis and Niall as he levels their mics, when they’re interrupted. 

“Is that much moving backwards and forwards necessary, Styles?” a voice from the wing says reproachfully. Louis turns and spies another of the technicians - he already can’t remember his name - standing there idly, shaking his head at the scene.

“Just making sure it’s perfect, Peter,” Harry says with a grin as he adjusts the microphone pack in his hand again.

“Well, don’t,” the man says gruffly, tutting. “It’s day bloody three, kid, we don’t need to worry about it being perfect yet. That comes later.”

Harry’s face drops. “Oh, okay,” he says, going from enthusiastic to seemingly embarrassed in seconds. It’s enough to make Louis frown from where he’s stood in between them, shooting daggers at this Peter bloke. “Right, well. I guess we’re ready then.”

“About bloody time,” Peter mutters, then does some hand gesture towards the back of the house that makes music blare through the speakers.

They spend the rest of the day singing their first few songs, really getting a feel for them before the choreography is introduced next week. Once James and Julian are happy with them, they call them finished for the rest of the day while they work on some bits with the ensemble, and Harry reappears from Stage Left to unmic them.

“Hey,” Louis murmurs as Harry’s long arm reaches out to unclip the mic from his hair. “I appreciated what you were doing back there. I know mics aren’t an easy thing to get right.”

Harry just shrugs. “It’s okay, I mean, I’m new this year so, like, I don’t always know what I’m doing.”

“Well, I think you’re doing a smashing job,” Louis tells him, then cringes. He’s going to think about that questionable word choice for the rest of his life,  _ honestly.  _ Who the fuck says smashing?

But Harry doesn’t seem to pick up on his stupid wording and just beams at him instead. “Really? Well, thanks Louis.”

“Anytime,” Louis says, going for breezy even though he doesn’t feel breezy at all.

Smashing. He hates himself.

Day four he doesn’t see much of Harry because they’re just doing blocking all day, but day five marks the end of the first week and his third interaction with Harry, which thankfully isn’t as embarrassing as the other two. It’s one of the ensemble member’s birthdays so he brings in a tray of elaborately decorated cupcakes, and Louis and Harry end up having a conversation over them about a topic very close to Louis’s heart - baked goods.

“I used to be a baker, you know,” Harry tells him proudly before he takes a massive bite out of the cupcake that he goes into tongue first. Louis just blinks and nods at him dopily before he catches himself (but seriously, who the fuck eats tongue first?) and takes a bite of his own cake. It’s delicious, moist and full of cream and jam, and he makes a pleased noise as he swallows it.

“Fuck, I love me some cake.”

“Do you?” Harry asks, looking delighted. “Same. I literally love baking so much. I do it when I’m happy, I do it when I’m stressed…”

“There must be good snacks all the time at the Styles’ residence,” Louis says with a grin.

Harry blinks at him. “You know my surname?”

“Yeah, um, well. Peter said it the other day, didn’t he?” Louis coughs awkwardly. “That is your surname, right? When Peter called you Styles?”

Harry’s expression drops the teeniest bit, but he’s still grinning when he says, “Yeah, Styles is my surname. I’m impressed you remembered, to be fair.”

“It’s a pretty cool surname,” Louis tells him. “Styles. Harry Styles. Like, you kind of have to go into this industry with a name like that.”

Harry honks another of those endearing laughs and crumbs go flying everywhere, but Louis couldn’t give a shit because he’s too endeared. 

“I might write that on my CV,” Harry giggles. “Nobody’s ever told me that before but it is quite a cool surname if you think about it.”

“Cooler than Tomlinson, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, but you’re Louis Tomlinson.” Harry says his name like it’s something exciting. “You’re kind of a big deal.”

Louis flushes and awkwardly punches Harry’s shoulder in a jokey way. “Nah, I’m not,” he says with a shake of his head. “I’ve played a few cool West End roles but like, nothing amazing yet.”

“Yeah but you’re gonna be a fucking amazing Elder Price,” Harry tells him earnestly. “And from what I’ve heard you’ve got a cracking singing voice and you look like you love being on stage.”

“I do love being on stage,” Louis admits with a shrug. “It’s my favourite thing in the whole world.” He ruffles his fringe awkwardly, flicking it back. “So come on then. You’ve gotta tell me now.”

“Tell me what?”

“What you’ve seen me in,” Louis smirks. “If you knew me by name like that I presume it’s because you’ve seen me in something and made the connection.”

“I, um, I haven’t seen you in anything yet,” Harry mumbles, then blushes. “But I follow a lot of, like, West End blogs and Twitter accounts and stuff because since moving to London I’ve become a man obsessed with stage shows and you get talked about a lot. Apparently you’re the best Skye that a West End version of  _ Mamma Mia! _ has ever seen.”

Louis snorts - he remembers that review. “Yeah, but then  _ The Guardian  _ also called me the campest Skye ever so I don’t know who to believe, really.”

Harry barks that gorgeous laugh again but he’s cut off by James entering the room and demanding everyone get back to work, so Louis bids him a reluctant goodbye and heads back to the stage.

Once they’ve finished a few more hours of blocking and singing they’re dismissed for the weekend and Louis is absolutely ready for a long lie-in tomorrow morning. He says goodnight to the and goes to his dressing room to collect his bag, only to find Zayn already in there.

“Who gave you a key fob?” he demands with a shake of his head. “Honestly, the security round here is lax as fuck.”

“Liam gave me a key fob, idiot.” Zayn stands up from where he’s been lounging on the sofa in the corner. “Wondered if you wanna come with us to Nando’s after this, you down?”

“Hell yeah,” Louis says, already rummaging in his bag for his deodorant and a change of clothes. Anything that involves chicken and not having to cook is a win in his book. “Is Liam coming now then?”

“Yeah, just finishing up,” Zayn tells him. He pulls out his phone from the pocket of his leather jacket. “Yeah, I’ve got a text from him here, says he’ll only be two minutes or so.”

“Perfect,” Louis says, muffled as he pulls the clean t-shirt over his head. “How have you found the first week then?”

“It’s good,” Zayn replies. “Perrie seems a lovely girl so far and she’s got a good eye for detail, which you know I appreciate because so many designers don’t pay attention to that shit.”

“I  _ do _ know,” Louis agrees. “Everyone here seems sound, to be fair. Niall and Leigh are great and all the ensemble are too. Julian is hilarious as well.”

“And Harry,” Zayn says with a knowing smile, just as they hear the beep of the door unlocking and Liam lets himself in. “Don’t forget about Harry.”

“Harry seems nice,” Louis says, aiming for nonchalant and failing horrendously. “Some of the guys that work backstage look like they’re gonna be right moody bastards though.”

“Louis, you’re talking shit,” Liam cuts him off as he slides past to get to Zayn. Louis stamps on his toe.

“I am not talking shit, you bastard. Tell him, Zayn.”

“No, I do think you’re right, apart from my dear darling husband of course, but it’s a shame.”

“Thank you, Zayn,” Louis says primly, sticking his tongue out at Liam. “See, Zayn understands me.”

“With the other exception being Harry though,” Liam pushes.

“Oh, yeah, obviously the other exception being Harry, but in general he’s got a point.”

“What?” 

“Oh come the fuck on, Lou. Clearly you want to shag him breathless,” Zayn says dryly. “But in general, I mean, I think you have a point that some of them are right moody fuckers.”

“I don’t want to shag him breathless,” Louis snaps. “He’s a nice lad but he’s, just, like, nice and not really my type at all.”

“What, in that he’s younger than you? Probably doesn’t have as much money in the bank as you?”

“I don’t care about money and you know it,” Louis snaps. “And I don’t really care about age either. That’s not the point.”

“Okay then,” Liam says slowly. “So what about him makes him not your type?”

“He’s… too tall.”

“Too tall,” Liam repeats. He puts his hands on his hips and stares at Louis blankly. “Too tall even though he’s probably not as tall as Henry was.”

“His height reminds me of Henry,” Louis sniffs petulantly. He knows that’s a petty thing to say, but he says it anyway, careful to avoid the irritated stares of his two best friends. “And so does his hair.”

“Louis,” Liam scolds him. Even Zayn is frowning at him now, hands on hips. “Henry was stocky as fuck with a full beard and much darker hair. And bringing him into the conversation in the first place? Really?”

Louis glares back. “Look,” he hisses. “Obviously I’m going to be bringing Henry into talks like this. I can’t help but compare all men to him, which yes, I’m aware that’s probably why I’m still single, but…”

“A-ha!” Liam cuts in triumphantly. “So you admit you’ve compared Harry to Henry in your head. Sizing him up as a potential mate.”

“Please don’t say mate like they’re dogs, Liam,” Zayn groans, lightly slapping his husband on the shoulder. Liam pouts but then shrugs. 

“But he’s been caught out,” he titters happily, pointing at Louis. Louis scowls. “He does fancy Harry.”

“I wish Harry wasn’t so similar to Henry,” he complains bitterly, then sighs when Liam looks at him all alarmed. “I mean the name, idiot. I don’t think Harry is like Henry at all.”

“You see?” Liam says happily, looking between Louis and Zayn with a great big smile on his face. He tugs Louis into his side and kisses him on the top of the head, and Louis struggles against him for a second before he gives up. Liam is much stronger and they both know it, and he’s feeling sorry enough for himself that he could do with the cuddle. “Oh, Louis, don’t look at me like that. I think it’s good you’ve got a crush on someone.”

“It’s not a fucking crush,” Louis mumbles weakly, but it sounds pathetic even to his own ears. “I’ve known the kid for ten fucking minutes.”

“I mean, you don’t have to act on it regardless of whether it’s a crush or not,” Zayn says sagely. “You’re allowed to just use this as some time to, like, get used to the idea of dating again and feeling something for someone that isn’t contempt and rage.”

“I don’t feel contempt or rage towards Henry anymore,” Louis starts, then cuts himself off. “Actually I fucking do. Bastard. Why can’t I just have a crush on someone normally anymore?”

“Oh yeah, he’s definitely worthy of your rage,” Liam says, just as Zayn says, “I feel contempt and rage towards him still, the fucking cunt.”

The three of them laugh and Louis lets himself be cuddled for the both of them a little while longer. It is nice to be able to laugh about Henry - Louis certainly did enough crying over the fucker to last a lifetime. And as much as he wants to be over Henry and it’s been almost two years since he’s last seen the guy, he’s still angry and hurt and probably still more fucked up by it than he’s ready to admit. Having a crush on someone, even this far on from it all, still feels foreign and confusing and like something he isn’t ready for. 

“I hate you two fuckers,” he says, muffled by Liam’s arm, because if he says anything sappy or actually nice he might cry. 

“We love you too, babes,” Zayn says, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Even though you’re a terrible liar and you do have a terrible taste in men.”

“Well, so do both of you,” Louis retorts, then shrieks as Zayn squawks and Liam starts tickling him in retaliation. 

He supposes he was asking for that one.

*

On Monday morning, Harry shows up to Louis and Niall’s dressing room with a homemade Mississippi mud pie, and if Louis wasn’t confused enough already, it turns out that Harry might actually be the best baker in the world. And the others agree.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth,” Niall announces happily, licking his finger and then wiping it around the plate. “Holy shit, Harry. This is incredible, literally incredible.”

“I’m leaving Liam for this pie,” Zayn says, looking delighted as Harry produces a second Tupperware. “Liam, darling, it’s been a good run.”

“I don’t even blame you,” Liam shrugs as he also helps himself to a second piece. “I’d leave you for this in a heartbeat.”

“Glad you all like it,” says Harry proudly, then he glances to Louis. “Did you like it, Louis?”

“Harry, the only reason I didn’t say anything is because I literally don’t have the words,” Louis says.  _ Not because I might have literally proposed to you if I’d opened my big fat mouth.  _ “This is immense, Haz.”

“Glad you think so,” Harry beams. “You said you loved baked goods so I figured I’d bring some in.”

“I  _ do _ love baked goods,” Louis says again, stomach fluttering stupidly at the thought that Harry remembered his passing comment and went home to bake the most delicious dessert that he’s possibly ever eaten. “You didn’t have to bake me something though.”

Harry shrugs. “It’s for everyone,” he says, shrugging again. “And like I said, I just love baking so it was cool to have some time over the weekend to do it.”

Right. It’s not for him. Harry’s just a lovely guy who likes to win people over with his cakes. No big deal.

It’s a stupid thought anyway. They’ve only known each other a week, for crying out loud.

Much to Louis’s equal delight and chagrin, Harry starts showing up on random days with his home baking ventures. He’s started to try and find excuses to spend time with Harry just because he’s so lovely and charming and easy to be around, but when he looks this good all the time  _ and  _ provides them with copious amounts of cakes and biscuits... well. 

Louis is getting more and more worried by the day that he’s actually in love with him.

Week two sees him provided with M&M muffins followed by peanut butter brownies, two treats that were so rich and decadent that Louis could have cried eating them. Week three is an apple and rhubarb crumble with homemade custard and cherry bakewell tarts, Louis’s personal favourite, and week four is bite-sized sticky toffee puddings and blueberry muffins followed by a Victoria Sponge.

“If I wasn’t happily married, I’d leave my wife for this man,” Niall remarks one day, chomping on the remains of a honeycomb flapjack that Harry had made earlier in the week. 

“Wait, you’re married?” Louis asks, baffled. He doesn’t know how he didn’t know that already. “Since when?”

Niall shrugs. “About a year,” he tells them, then holds up his left hand. “I don’t wear my ring around here because I’ll have to keep taking it on and off for the show and I’m petrified to lose it. Can you imagine the bollocking you’re asking for if you lose your wedding ring?”

Louis snorts. “Yeah, true.” He leans back and crosses his arms. “Alright, well you learn something new everyday, don’t you? Tell me about her then.”

Niall launches into their love story - apparently he’d met Hailee outside a stage door once while she was waiting to meet some of the drag queens who’d starred in the production with him and he thought she was so fit he’d asked for her number there and then. Four years later the pair are married, own a home, and are thinking of trying for a baby once  _ The Book of Mormon  _ is over. It all sounds rather sweet.

Harry comes in at the tail-end of Niall’s story, carrying a radio in one hand and a huge Tupperware full of cookies in the other. “Hi,” he greets, sounding out of breath. “Anyone for chocolate chip cookies?”

“Harold, did you know that our Nialler here is married?” Louis asks, “Him, a husband?”

Harry looks delighted by that information. “Are you actually?” he coos. “As  _ if _ , I had no idea.” Then he pouts. “If I’d have known that I’d have baked her some bits for you to take home to her.”

Niall barks a laugh. “Of course that’s the first thing you think about, dear Harry.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, bless her, she wouldn’t be able to eat half of them. She’s super lactose intolerant so she’s got to be super careful about what she eats.”

Harry looks appalled, much to Louis’s amusement. “Well, now you’ve told me that I can work on some of my lactose-free recipes,” he sighs, like that’s obvious. Louis giggles.

“Yes, please do,” he encourages happily. “Because once the show run starts I have to give up dairy too and it sucks.”

Harry frowns. “Why?”

“It’s super gross when you have to say it but dairy, like, makes your throat produce excess phlegm so when we’re doing a show we’re not supposed to eat it cos it can affect our singing.”

The way Harry’s face goes from a frown to looking positively delighted in a split second is nothing short of comical. “Well, that’s  _ perfect, _ ” he says gleefully. “Lactose-free baking starts as of tonight.”

His name comes through over the radio from Steve a moment later so he ends up having to leave, but once the door clicks shut behind him Niall bursts out laughing.

“Is that kid for fucking real?”

“He can’t be for real,” Louis says flatly. “He absolutely cannot be a real person, I refuse to believe it.”

Harry comes the next day armed with twelve mini dairy-free raspberry cheesecakes, three specifically for Niall to take home to Hailee and three specifically for Louis to trial to see if he likes them. Louis nearly drops dead with how fucking  _ nice _ that is and then balks when he realises that Harry did this for him without even questioning it..

This crush that isn’t a crush is getting worse by the day.

Without Louis even realising it, both Harry and Niall have slotted so easily into his life and they start eating lunch as a group of five nearly every day during rehearsals. 

Niall is hilarious, bold as brass and has the most infectious laugh that Louis’s ever heard. If Niall is laughing then you can’t not be laughing as well, it’s impossible, and Niall laughs a  _ lot.  _ He’s always open to taking part in Louis’s practical jokes (usually aimed towards Liam, because why would he change the habit of a lifetime?) and he’s just an absolute delight to be around, bringing good energy and banter to all members of the cast and crew. Everybody loves Niall.

And Harry - well. 

Harry is an absolute joy to be around. He’s witty, clever and so,  _ so _ funny - he has Louis in stitches on almost a daily basis, whether he’s trying to copy Niall’s accent badly or sharing an anecdote from his time at uni or whether he’s teasing Liam for how sometimes he speaks too fast and says something stupid.

Nothing is ever said with malice though. He’s adorably kind, from simple things like always making sure that people have teas or coffees if they want one to bigger things, like when Zayn accidentally jabbed himself under his fingernail with a darning needle and Harry had it expertly cleaned and wrapped up before Liam had even had the chance to flap into the room in husbandly panic. He loves giving hugs, is always texting his mum, and has a picture of a cat as his phone background just because he saw it on Instagram and thought it was cute.

And the best (and kind of the worst) part is he seems to love being around Louis too. He always wants to make sure that Louis is laughing at the joke and never, ever makes him the butt of the joke unless it’s very gentle teasing that Louis will tut at but secretly really enjoys. He loves being the centre of attention at the best of times - he is an actor, for fuck’s sake - but he finds that he loves being the centre of  _ Harry’s _ attention more than anyone else’s.

At first it’s almost like a joke between him, Zayn and Liam, this having a crush on Harry thing. Harry is by all accounts Louis’s perfect type - tall, dark and handsome with a daft sense of humour, an interest in musical theatre and rock music and football as well as being an incredible cook - but the jokes on the crush start off being nothing more than that, just jokes. 

Louis has spent the best part of two years getting over a relationship that near enough destroyed his confidence and self-worth. The idea of dating again has been something that has been moving out from the back of his mind for some time now, but he’s terrified to admit to himself because that’s a big fucking step. A big fucking step that he never thought he’d have to take again because when he and Henry moved into together this time two years ago he was pretty convinced that this was the man he was going to marry. 

That came crashing down around him in one fell swoop and he ended out on his ass, single and depressed and lonely as shit; but with lots of hard work, determination, and a little bit of help from his best friends and sister, he built himself back up and now he feels more like himself again than he has in a long time. He meant it when he said that his role in  _ The Book of Mormon  _ has been a turning point for him and his life, but he didn’t envision finding someone here that he actually feels attracted to in that way, someone that brings butterflies to his tummy and makes me smile just by entering the room. 

He never expected Harry Styles to walk into his life, but now Louis doesn’t ever want him to leave. 

He hasn’t had a proper crush in years and now to have one on someone, who for all intents and purposes is literally perfect for him, it is a  _ lot _ to take in. 

Harry bakes Louis cakes and sweet treats on a weekly basis just because of something he said one time in one of their first ever conversations and now it’s become tradition, almost, that their Monday mornings are spent enjoying a feast in their dressing room. Harry constantly texts Louis memes and TikToks he thinks he’ll find funny and he always sits next to him at lunch or on their breaks, pressed close so they can share some in person. 

They always seem to end up next to each other, no matter what they’re doing. 

Louis doesn’t think he’s making up the chemistry they have in his head because other people keep commenting on it too. Just the other day Niall had asked when he was going to ask Harry on a date and he’d choked on his tea, spluttering for a good thirty seconds before he could get any words out. 

“Ask Harry on a date?” he rasps. “What the fuck?”

Niall blinks at him. “You like Harry, right?”

“Of course I like Harry. Everybody likes Harry.”

Niall tuts. “That’s not what I mean, Lou, and you know it.”

“Yeah, well.” Louis slurps at his tea obnoxiously. Regardless of his stupid crush and the fact that Harry seems to like him too, the idea of actually asking him out seems absurd. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Right,” Niall drawls, then makes a face at Louis for the rest of the night every time he interacts with Harry which, granted, is a lot. Maybe he didn’t realise just how much time he’s spending with Harry these days. 

It’s just so effortless to do so. 

Without Louis realising it they’re over halfway through the rehearsal process, coming to the already nearing the end of April. Long weeks of rehearsals and weekends spent recovering from them have all started to blur into one, which might explain why it feels like he’s known Harry his whole life. It feels like he doesn’t know life without Harry anymore and he can’t imagine living a life where he doesn’t look forward to a good morning meme on WhatsApp, or a daily cuddle as they both go home, or a recipe for something that Harry thinks he’d like to eat for dinner that Louis will never actually cook in a million years, but he appreciates the sentiment so much. 

The show begins in just over three weeks and it’s starting to come together and take shape in a way that Louis is immensely proud of. He doesn’t have to fake the chemistry he has with Niall or Leigh-Anne, or any of the cast for that matter, and Jesy is a brilliant choreographer who has taken Niall’s two left feet into consideration for all of the dances, turning it into a well-practiced comedy routine. He’s quietly confident because everything seems to be falling into place easily - he’s working with the most talented cast, crew and musicians he thinks he’s ever worked with on a show; and so far, there’s been no hurdles with bum notes, broken sets, or even anybody getting ill. 

He’s not worried about the show for once in his life, but he’s worried about Harry. 

Louis is a big brother and being protective of those he loves comes very naturally to him. He’d go to war for any of his siblings or for Zayn or Liam in a heartbeat, but the day he realises he’d do the same for Harry starts like any other. 

He lets himself into his dressing room to see Harry, Niall and Liam already inside, and he can sense immediately that something’s wrong. “Hey guys,” he says in a voice that’s definitely too chipper for the room. “What’s up?”

“Harry’s having a bad day,” Liam says back. His voice is level but one look at his face tells Louis that everything isn’t alright at all. 

“Oh yeah? What’s wrong with you?” Louis asks, rummaging in his bag for his lunch.

“Nothing,” Harry snaps harshly, keeping his head down as he pulls his phone out his pocket. In his flurry to do so he knocks over the seat Louis always sits in and it makes a long  _ bang  _ as it thumps to the ground. “I’m fine, alright?”

“Alright?” Louis says, taken aback. He hates the way he flinches at it, the bang and the way he snapped, so he tries to cover it with a shake of his head and moves to the sofa instead of taking his usual seat next to Harry. “Yeah, okay.”

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles, hurrying to move the seat back up. “Don’t… don’t sit over there, Lou. You never sit over there.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “It’s your dressing room and I’m the one who snapped, so come back. Please. Sorry. I’m really sorry.”

“Okay,” Louis says again, moving apprehensively back over to where Harry’s sitting. He pointedly avoids Niall’s gaze and sits back down, tearing open his sandwich packet and shoving it in his mouth so he doesn’t ask any stupid questions. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” Harry huffs, still not meeting Louis’s eyes. “Actually, can we talk about literally anything else?”

“Sure,” the three other lads nod hurriedly. Harry looks a mix between furious and like he might cry, which is the last thing Louis ever would want, so he rushes out with the first thing he can think of. 

“Hey, did you watch the Man U game last night?”

Harry’s rarely in a bad mood, so even though he chirps up a bit in the company of the lads, it plays on Louis’s mind for the rest of the day. He wonders briefly if he’s done anything (until Liam calls him a paranoid prick) but it seems this runs a bit deeper than that. He seems super reluctant to go back into work after their break, even remarking he hopes he can finish early, which is very out of character. 

It’s none of his business, obviously, but Louis still spends his evening wondering how he can broach the subject with him tomorrow without sounding nosey. 

Turns out Harry’s the one that brings it up for him. 

The next morning, Louis realises he’s scheduled a delivery for the theatre instead of his home address, so he heads outside to wait for the driver during the time slot on his email. He pockets his phone and his AirPods, expecting a bit of a wait, but he doesn’t end up looking at either. Instead he finds a forlorn looking Harry loitering out the front, so he goes and joins him instead.

“What are you doing out here?” he asks him.

Harry looks at the floor instead of at him. “I, um, I just wanted to take five minutes.”

“Oh, okay,” Louis nods. “Feel free to tell me to piss off if you want me to go and wait around the corner.”

“No,” Harry rushes out, side-stepping from one foot to the other awkwardly. “No, I mean, like, don’t leave because I’m here. I’m just like… if anything, it should be me leaving you alone.”

Louis shrugs. “Why? Don’t feel you have to leave on my account, sunshine. It’d be nice to have some company in the pissing rain.” He gently nudges Harry’s arm with his shoulder. “Plus, you seem bothered about something. So if you want to stay out here away from what’s bothering you then please do.”

Harry smiles politely at him, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I, um, yeah. Thank you, Louis.”

“Anytime,” Louis says breezily, offering him a smile. “Look, sunshine, if something is bothering you in there then you need to tell someone. I’ve been in this industry a long time and a lot of it stays the same from theatre to theatre.” He shrugs. “And from the way you’re standing, and also the way you’re looking at me, I can tell something really is bothering you.”

“It’s nothing…”

“Harry, babe, I’m an actor,” Louis says gently. “And no offence, but you’re not a great one. You look like you want to run away and never come back.”

Harry snorts. “Yeah, maybe.” He doesn’t offer anything else in terms of conversation, he just stands next to Louis for a couple more minutes, and Louis doesn’t press anymore either. He’s pressed enough and the ball is in Harry’s court, so when he does speak after a stretch of silence, Louis listens.

“I don’t like the way Peter speaks to me.”

That makes Louis look up in surprise. “Oh?”

“He talks to me like I’m stupid, like I’m this dumb kid that doesn’t know anything about sound production,” Harry continues with a scowl. “And I hate it. It’s not fair.”

“Has something happened?” Louis has to ask. “Did he say something to you earlier?”

Harry shrugs, but Louis knows that means yes. “He… yeah, he did.,” he says with a sigh. “I’ve had a couple of ideas for how we can really get the band to sound their best and each time I suggest anything I get shut down. And today we ran into a problem because one of the electric drum kits isn’t connecting to the microphones we have and I made my suggestion again and he shouted me down, like, in front of everyone. Told me no means no like I’m a fucking  _ child _ .”

“That’s not on,” Louis says with a scowl. “Even if your suggestion isn’t any good, just talk to you about it after, you know?”

“And the thing that’s most frustrating is that even Steve said to him that what I said is a good idea, but he said no. He literally doesn’t want to listen to the idea because it’s mine.” Harry shrugs meekly. “Honestly, I don’t think he likes me one bit.”

“But you’re so likeable,” Louis says dumbly, and he really doesn’t mean it to sound as dopey and patronising as it does, but it makes Harry frown. “I mean it, Harry. You’re literally one of the nicest people I think I’ve ever met.”

Harry’s cheeks pinken. “I…” he starts, then cuts himself off with a shake of his head. “Maybe I am a likeable guy, but it doesn’t mean I’m any good at my job, clearly.”

“Yeah, but this is your first tech job, innit?” Harry nods. “So you’re not going to learn it all overnight, are you? Steve’s been in this business easily twenty years, which is why he’s the manager, you know?”

Harry shrugs again. “Yeah, I suppose.”

“Don’t suppose, I’m telling the truth.” Louis awkwardly pats Harry’s shoulder. “Is that what was bothering you yesterday as well?” Harry pauses but nods. “Talk to Steve if it’s bothering you this much, alright?”

Harry nods again and smiles at Louis tightly, but when he thinks Louis isn’t looking the smile turns into more of a grimace. He wonders if this has been going on for longer than today if Harry’s so angry and humiliated that he felt the need to come away from the situation like this. He wonders how many times it’s happened that Harry hasn’t mentioned. 

And now Louis’s aware of it, he can’t stop noticing it whenever he’s around either Harry or Peter. Harry does come across as shy and unsure a lot of the time, especially when handling the bigger pieces of equipment, and Peter doesn’t seem to take the time to teach him, or let anyone else help him for that matter.

For example, a couple of days after their conversation outside Louis and Niall are on the stage together with a few members of the ensemble, gearing up to practice  _ I Am Here For You  _ and they’ve just been mic'd up when suddenly an awful screech of feedback rips through all their speakers and makes them all flinch.

“Fucking Nora,” Niall swears loudly. “What the shitting hell was that?”

“Sorry,” Peter’s voice announces over the speakers from where he’s up in the tech box. “Some silly sod dropped a mic, didn’t you  _ Harry?” _

“Er, yeah, sorry,” Harry’s voice grunts down the mic. Louis winces internally because he doesn’t need to see Harry’s face to know how red and flustered he’ll be right now.

“Idiot,” Peter mutters, and Louis isn’t sure if this was intended for the mic to pick up or not, but still everyone in the auditorium laughs (except for him).

He fucks up the words to his song twice because he’s so annoyed.

A week or so later he overhears Peter slagging Harry off in the hallway to two of the other technicians.

“He molts so fucking much and keeps leaving his fucking hair all around the tech office and it’s driving me bonkers,” he hears as he stands outside his dressing room, rummaging in his pocket for his key fob. “Greasy fucker.” He pauses while the other two blokes laugh kind of awkwardly. “And also I can’t stand when guys wear nail varnish. I dunno why but I just hate it, so that winds me up even more.”

It doesn’t take a genius to work out that he’s talking about Harry and Louis would also probably wager that nail varnish winds Peter up so much because Harry wears it. He bites back a snappy response and seethes all the way into his dressing room, and when he gets onto the stage next and is ready to be mic'd up he makes sure to praise Harry nice and loudly, even though he probably comes across as a bit maniacal.

It’s the Friday night after their final long week of rehearsals that Louis brings it up to the guys. 

“I don’t care much for Peter, you know.”

They’re in his dressing room, Niall sat at his dressing table with his feet thrown up on it, scrolling away on his phone. Zayn’s sitting in the corner on the sofa, phone also in hand, the three of them waiting for Liam and Leigh-Anne and Perrie before they head out for some much needed food and drink. It’s been an exhausting week, with longer hours than usual as they’re only a week away from opening, and Louis’s dying for a pint and a lie-in. 

He’s also sick to death of listening to Peter be such a prick to everyone. 

Niall looks up from his phone. “Yeah?” he says. “I don’t think I do either, to be fair. He comes across a bit of a tosser at times.”

“I think he’s a right fucking prick, if I’m honest,” Louis says, louder and hotter than he means it to given that he’s the one who brought it up unprovoked. “I hate the way he talks to people here.”

“Did he say something to you today?” Niall asks. 

It’s a fair enough question, Louis supposes, and for a second he considers lying, but he shakes his head. “Nah, but I heard him snap at James earlier and then at Harry.”

“Liam says he’s awful for snapping back at you,” Zayn chips in. “Definitely seems to think he knows better than people like James, and even Steve at times.”

“Weirdo has some nerve,” Louis scoffs. “Imagine thinking you’re better around a sound-desk than our Steve.”

Zayn snorts. “I know right.”

There’s a knock on the door then, so Louis shuffled across the room to answer it. It’s Liam, of course, and behind him he’s got Leigh-Anne and Perrie and some of the guys from the ensemble and at the back is bloody Harry, because of course he is. Louis hates the way he gets butterflies in his stomach almost instantly. 

“Hello,” Liam says breezily. “You guys ready to go?”

“Yep,” Louis says loudly, tilting his head into the room to gesture to the others to stand up. “I am fucking ravenous, lad, let’s get some food.”

Fifteen minutes later they’re in a bar that apparently turns into a club later in the night that Louis’s never been to before but has Bon Jovi blaring over the speakers and the queue at the bar is nice and short, so he’s not complaining. They end up in a large, round booth that fits them all snugly and somehow, he’s ended up next to Harry, their legs pressed together under the table.

He’s not sure how this keeps happening. 

Drinks and appetisers are ordered and they all cheers to their final night of freedom before things get manic. It’s only the first week of May but now they won’t have a weekend free until their August break, so the plan for tonight is clear - let’s fucking make the most of it. 

Without realising it, Louis and Harry keep the conversation between them flowing the entire time. They order drinks in pairs and Harry’s arm lays across the top of their seats, boxing them in, almost. Somehow the drunker he gets, the closer to Harry he gets but neither of them seem to mind, nor do they comment on it. 

They’re all pretty tipsy by the time the food’s been cleared away. More drinks are delivered to their table and they all clink their glasses to nothing in particular before Leigh-Anne stands up.

“Let’s play a game!”

Louis and Harry groan in perfect sync, which is stupid but it makes them dissolve into giggles together. Louis ignores Liam and Zayn’s raised eyebrows behind him and mutters, “God I hate drinking games. I always feel like such a tit.”

“Same,” Harry agrees. “Reckon we’ll be forced into it anyway, don’t you?”

“Oh, for sure.” Louis shakes his head then rolls his eyes as Leigh-Anne and Perrie strut off towards the bar to buy them all shots. “Oh, Jesus Christ, we’re gonna die, aren’t we?”

“Probably.” Harry drains his pint and tuts. “Here, want me to get you another drink? I’ll order it on the app.”

“Yes please,” Louis says. He groans again as he sees the barman pouring a disgusting amount of vodka into god knows how many shot glasses. “Oh god, Harry, we’re gonna die.”

When they get back to the table each of the girls has a huge tray of shots, which they slide into the middle of the table. Everyone around the table cheers.

“Right, everyone,” Perrie announces, not sitting back down just yet. “We are playing a pre-game to Never Have I Ever, which we will play next, but this is just an ice-breaker slash warm up to that.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Harry mutters.

“Everyone needs to take a shot and then tell us their body count,” Leigh-Anne declares gleefully, reaching for one. “Come on everyone, take a shot.”

Harry reaches forward and picks up two, sliding one in front of Louis and keeping one for himself. “Why does it always have to be about sex, these drinking games?” he scoffs in Louis’s ear. Louis hums in agreement.

“Who wants to start?” Perrie chirps from Leigh-Anne’s side. She nudges Liam on her other side. “You go, Liam.”

“Yeah, I mean I suppose I’m an easy person to start with because it’s one,” Liam says easily, then necks his shot before turning to grin at Zayn. Zayn grins back and raises his shot in the air.

“Also one,” he says proudly. He necks the shot and lets Liam kiss the grimace off his face. “Childhood sweethearts, aren’t we?”

Everyone coos at them before the focus turns to Niall. “Either sixteen or seventeen depending on how you look at it,” he tells them. “I’m still not sure how it works with threesomes.”

“Jesus Christ, Niall,” Leigh-Anne says, looking a little alarmed. “Okay, Louis, you next.”

“Three,” Louis rushes out, chucking his shot back quickly. He doesn’t want to dwell on that any longer than he has to. “I’m a long-term relationship bloke, me.”

“Awww,” the girls all coo again, Perrie even reaching over the lads to pinch him on the cheek. He pointedly doesn’t look at Harry, just keeps staring into his lap. God, why is this so awkward?

“Hazza?”

“I don’t even wanna say because you’re gonna think I’m a right slag,” Harry huffs, but he picks up the shot anyway. “But alright. Here’s to my 36 former sexual partners.”

Louis whips his head up in alarm, eyes wide. That’s not what he was expecting at all.

“How many?” Niall screeches, then reaches over Louis to high-five Harry. “Fuckin’ bravo, mate.”

“You curly little slag,” Zayn titters from his other side, clapping him on the shoulder. “That’s literally more than all of us lads put together.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve only slept with your husband and I think that’s rather nice,” Harry grumbles, voice low. Like Louis, he drops his gaze to his lap. “Can someone else go, please?”

Louis hates the way that it suddenly feels tense as Leigh-Anne tells the table her number. Even as this game comes to an end and they start playing  _ Never Have I Ever,  _ there’s clearly a weird awkwardness between the two of them that definitely wasn’t there before. 

And it’s not even that Louis cares how many people Harry’s slept with, or even how low his own number is in comparison. He cares that Harry feels embarrassed and he cares that his initial reaction was one of shock, when really it was more that he’s never known anyone with such a high number before. 

It’s also a touch of jealousy, but he doesn’t even want to admit that to himself right now. 

The music is suddenly turned up, tables moved away from the centre of the room and the group starts to disband, moving out onto the dancefloor that’s just appeared or heading back to the bar to get another drink. Louis’s fingers are itching for a cigarette after all of that so he starts looking around for Liam and Zayn, who appear to have fucked off without him which,  _ rude,  _ when Harry stops him.

“I’m not a slag, I promise,” he shouts over the music. “I don’t want you to think I’m a slag.”

“I don’t think you’re a slag,” Louis assures him, shaking his head. “You can do whatever you want, dear Harold. It doesn’t matter what I think.”

He isn’t sure if he imagines hearing Harry say, “it does matter though,” but suddenly he’s being twirled around by an over-enthusiastic Niall as he joins their dance circle and suddenly he’s been separated from Harry entirely. If his brain wasn’t so booze-addled, he might dwell on the fact that Harry sought him out to tell him that. 

He dances and drinks until he starts really craving a cigarette, which he bums off of Zayn because he’s pretending he’s giving up again, and joins a few of the guys in the smoking area before heading back inside and buying another double vodka. 

He’s starting to feel tipsy by the time he’s finished his drink so he orders another, and then another. He necks them both while still at the bar and then stumbles back over to where he vaguely remembers his friends being, but a hand on his shoulder stops him. 

“Louis!” yells Harry, pulling him back so Louis stumbles and ends up in a drunken hug. “Where are you going?”

“To dance?” Louis pulls back and grins up at Harry dopily. He’s so  _ pretty.  _ “Wanna dance?”

Harry shakes his head but Louis isn’t going to let him off that easily. He loves to have a dance so pulls Harry into the dance floor before he can protest, because if he’s honest he does want to dance with Harry. Without second-guessing what he’s doing he wraps his arms around Harry’s neck and starts shimmying in time to the pop song over the speakers. It’s not really the kind of song that you can dance like this too but Louis is, quite frankly, too drunk to care. 

Being this close to Harry after all this time, after all this dancing around one another, is intoxicating on a different level. Harry smells amazing, like his own unique blend of sugar and sweat and Tom Ford’s Tobacco Vanille, and the way his body feels against Louis’s like it belongs there is just something else. He’s taller than Louis but not in an overbearing way, he’s stronger than Louis but not in an intimidating way and their attraction, their  _ pull _ to one another is truly undeniable at this point, especially now they’ve had some drinks. 

And Harry might have a great ear for rhythm when it comes to songs, but he’s a terrible,  _ terrible  _ dancer. He steps on Louis’s toes multiple times and doesn’t know where to put his hands and he ends up just sort of awkwardly hugging Louis before a faster song comes on, where he does some awkward hip wiggles and arm thrusts in lieu of any kind of real dancing. 

After a while Louis has to break their little trance to use the loo, and once he’s back out he spots Harry sitting at the same booth they were sat in earlier, two drinks on the table. He stumbles back over and slides onto the couch next to him, helping himself to one of the drinks. 

“This for me?” he says, giggling like an idiot around the straw. 

“Duh,” Harry says, shaking his head fondly. “Who else would it be for?”

“Well thank you, dear Harold,” Louis says with a grin, which makes Harry giggle stupidly. “Hey, what?”

“You thought my name was Harold,” Harry giggles, poking the space in between Louis’s eyes. “And it isn’t.”

“It should be,” Louis slurs, poking him back. “You are saved in my phone as Harold now so you should change it.”

“People always think my name is short for something, but I’m just Harry,” Harry pouts, shaking his head. “It’always either Harold or Henry and both of those names are stupid.”

“They are stupid,” Louis says fervently, because  _ fuck  _ the name Henry. “Fucking stupid. Really stupid. Stupid.”

Harry snorts. “Stupid. Especially Henry. Sounds like a dog’s name.”

Even after this many drinks, Louis still has something of a visceral reaction to the name Henry. He looks down at his lap and plays with the hole in his jeans. “Yeah,” he agrees again. “Henry is stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

There’s a pause and then two of Harry’s fingers tuck under his chin, coaxing his head back up. “Have I upset you?” Harry asks, and even drunk he looks so concerned that Louis’s brain can’t quite compute it. “Sorry if I did.”

“No.” Louis puts his hand on Harry’s cheek, thumbing over his cheekbone gently to try and soothe out some of the worried creases. “I’m not upset, I just… I really fucking hate the name Henry.”

“Okay,” Harry says, like it’s just that simple to stop talking about it. “So I don’t have to worry about you calling me Henry then.”

Louis’s grip on Harry’s cheek gets firmer and he shakes his head almost frantically. “No,” he says again hoarsely. “I will never, ever call you Henry.”

They look into each other’s eyes and the air between them feels like it shifts. 

“Louis, I…” Harry starts to say, resting his hand on Louis’s thigh. Louis’s breath hitches. “Shit, is this… can I…”

“Harry,” Louis starts to nod, because all of the energy between them suddenly feels charged, the way Harry can’t take his eyes off him while he holds his face and the way their bodies have suddenly shifted closer to one another without either of them realising. “Harry, do you…”

“ _ Fuck, _ ” Harry suddenly yells, jumping to his feet. It takes Louis a second to realise what’s going on but then he notices the fact that Harry’s dripping wet from where some drunk idiot has tipped a full pint of beer down his back, soaking his shirt all the way through and effectively ruining the moment. “Jesus, that’s cold.”

“Sorry, mate,” the drunk man slurs before he totters off. Harry glares after him as he flaps his hand up and down, trying to dry off as best he can. Louis wrinkles his nose at the smell and starts grabbing as many napkins from the table to dab at Harry’s back, but he shakes his head. 

“I’m literally soaking,” he whines, shuddering. “Gonna go get the gents, hang on.”

He makes a beeline for the men’s toilets and because he’s a bit drunk Louis thinks it’s a great idea to follow, but it really isn’t. 

In the cheap artificial lighting of the bathroom Harry’s white t-shirt is pretty much see-through and Louis watches from the doorway with a mix of awe and pure drunken enthusiasm as Harry crouches awkwardly under one of the hand-dryers to dry off. His hair flies out at all angles and his crotch is thrust forward to keep his balance. Louis hates the way he licks his lips and stares, but he’s too drunk to do much else. 

He’s so fucking attracted to Harry and he doesn’t know what to do about it. He feels like the opportunity is too far gone to try and kiss him again, their previous moment completely ruined by some drunk prick and his inability to hold his drink. He would sulk about it if he wasn’t too caught up in the idea of using this as an opportunity to actually get close to Harry.

He doesn’t do anything because of course he doesn’t - he stares and then when Harry turns around and realises he’s there he stumbles forward to pull him back onto the dance floor, yelling over the music that he needs to dance with him cos that’ll help him forget about his sticky back. 

He’s still a terrible dancer, but he at least makes the most of a good time and they stay out until last orders, despite the fact that he now reeks of beer and every time Louis touches him he’s sticky from it. Now they’re back in a bigger group where all the girls are cooing over Harry’s accident and Liam keeps pulling Louis into him to make sure he’s alright, he can’t keep as close to Harry as he’d like. 

It’s over before it’s even begun. 

Their parting hug is a little more intimate than a hug he’d share with anyone else, but he pretends not to notice. 

Louis is fucking hungover the next day, more hungover than he’s been in a long time. He texts Liam and Zayn to see if they want to come over to mope with him, so they come over and order pizza and watch Star Wars in their pyjamas for the rest of the day. 

“Have you spoken to Harry?” Liam asks, apropos of nothing, as they pause the film to put the leftovers in the fridge. Louis shakes his head. “Did something nearly happen between you two last night?”

“No,” Louis says, trying to sound scandalised. His heart feels like it’s beating at a hundred miles an hour. “Why would you even ask that?”

“I saw it happen, idiot,” Zayn tuts, leaning over to cuff Louis round the head. “You were awfully close in the booth and I thought you were finally about to kiss.”

Louis shrugs half-heartedly. “But we didn’t. So nothing happened.”

He says it in a tone that he hopes conveys how little he wants to talk about it right now and settles back onto the couch, wrapping himself in a blanket and letting the pair do the clean up even though it’s his flat. Serves them bloody right. 

But while they’re out the room, he takes the time to shoot Harry a quick message asking how he is. Harry comes online almost instantly and his reply follows about half a minute later. 

**_Harold:_ ** _ absolutely fine, thanks Lou :) see you Monday? xxx _

**_Louis:_ ** _ glad to hear :D see you Monday xxx _

So they’re not talking about it then. 

They don’t text for the rest of the weekend, but when they see each other on Monday morning they both act like their almost-kiss didn’t happen. It feels a bit upsetting, but Louis is kind of grateful. It’s too close to the show starting for him not to have his head fully in the game anyway. 

The next week passes by in the blink of an eye - they’re super close to the start of the run now so they’re working long days, from morning to night with only limited breaks. Louis barely gets the chance to sit down at lunch most days, just runs back to his dressing room and shovels down his sandwich or takeaway leftovers from the night before, but today they’re actually rehearsing a scene he’s not in over lunch so he ends up joining Liam in his dressing room for his meal and a much needed catch up with his best friend. 

Well, sort of. 

“What the fuck is that?” Louis sneers, eyeing Liam’s lunch up with disdain. “That looks fucking vile, Liam, truly.”

“It’s healthy, Lewis.” Liam chomps a massive forkful of it loudly. “It’s filling and nutritious.” He eyes Louis’s pizza. “Anyway, I thought you didn’t eat dairy during show runs because it fucks with your throat.”

“Run hasn’t started yet, has it?” Louis says gleefully, taking a massive bite and smacking his lips as he eats it. “I’m getting the cheese in now.” He swallows. “I’ll give it up the night before the show kicks off. I am nothing if not dedicated to my craft.” He nibbles at the crust. “Anyway, yesterday I saw Zayn with a McDonald’s so it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, is it?”

“It’s because I’m trying to not eat shit all the time,” Liam tells him with a sigh. “And I’m trying to drag Zayn along with me but as I’m sure you can imagine it’s not going particularly well.”

Louis snorts. “Zayn is a wise man.”

“He’s kind of on board,” Liam says, slightly indignant. “He won’t, like, eat my quinoa or my bean curd bake, but he’s been having some of the smoothies I’ve been making in the mornings.”

Louis rolls his eyes so hard he almost topples over. Why anyone would have a smoothie of all things for breakfast is beyond him. “Just have a cup of tea, you know what I mean? It’s like them fucking avocados.”

Liam looks up from his lunch. “What’s wrong with avocados?”

“Trendiest food of all time,” Louis scoffs. “It’s like, if I have an avocado and tag it in my picture, obviously I’m a boyo.” He pauses to pop another crisp into his mouth. “They do piss me off, avocados.”

Liam sighs long-sufferingly. He has years of Louis’s ranting over small topics under his belt. “Why?”

“It’s just one of them, innit, you go to LA and see people in LA and they’ve got avocado on toast.” He pauses, then points a crisp at Liam accusingly. “I bet you like it, don’t you?”

“It’s what I have most mornings,” Liam says with a shrug, not even bothering to hide his grin. Louis groans.

“Oh Payno, come on lad.”

“It’s filling and it’s nutritious.” Liam goes back to his salad, spearing a tomato on the end of his plastic fork. “And sorry, Lou, but I’ve never been to LA. I couldn’t possibly comment on what the folks over there eat.”

Louis flips him off before he rips open a Twix with his teeth. “Well, take it from me, lad. Pretentious wankers, the lot of them.”

Liam doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and then, smug as anything, mumbles, “I bet Harry likes avocados.”

Louis does his best to remain stoic, but even the mere mention of Harry’s name is enough for a smile to tug at the corners of his mouth.  _ Get it together, Tommo.  _

“Probably,” he says with a weak shrug. “Still not enough for me to want to eat one though.”

“That’s because you’d rather eat him,” Liam says, moving his Tupperware just in time before Louis kicks him in the thigh. “ _ Ow,  _ Jesus Christ, Louis.”

“I just don’t think that’s the kind of shit we need to announce so loudly when anybody could walk in, is it, Liam?” Louis says through gritted teeth. Liam rolls his eyes.

“Did I say anything that the people who could walk into this room wouldn’t already know?”

“Piss off,” Louis says, for lack of a smarter retort. He pops the last bite of Twix in his mouth before he pulls his phone out his pocket. He unlocks it to find an unread Whatsapp from Harry from twenty minutes ago and he swears quietly under his breath.

**Harold:** _ want anything from pret? Xx _

He’s online according to the little banner at the top, so Louis quickly types out a response. 

**Louis:** _ only just picked this up, sorry love. I’m all good thanks, had some leftover pizza and a twix xx _

The ticks go blue immediately, which makes Louis feel guilty and giddy at the same time. Harry was online waiting for Louis to respond. Harry  _ wants _ to bring Louis a lunch.

Within seconds, a response comes through.

**Harold:** _ okay :) got you something anyway! Xx _

Louis wants to  _ die _ .

“Who are you texting with that stupid dopey smirk?” Liam asks, though neither his face nor his tone suggest he actually means the question. Louis resists the urge to kick him again, instead glaring frantically between his friend and his phone.

“He asked me if I wanted something from Pret, I said no, he’s bringing me back something anyway.”

“That’s sweet,” Liam says, then offers Louis nothing else. Louis glares at him. “What? It is sweet!”

“It’s fucking lovely, is what it is,” Louis hisses. “Is that flirting? Is it flirting to bring someone something back from Pret A Fucking Manger if they’ve not asked for anything?”

“I don’t know,” Liam says, then pulls out his own phone. Louis frowns for a second, confused, but then Liam’s dialling Zayn, tapping the loudspeaker button as it rings a few times. Zayn answers on ring number four, but he sounds like he’s in the middle of doing something when he grunts out his greeting.

“Sup, babe?”

“Hi darling,” Liam drawls out, saccharine-sweet. “Listen, when you’ve got a second would you be able to pop out to Pret for me and grab me some lunch?”

There’s a pause, and then, “What the fuck, Liam?”

“Could you pop out to Pret and get me some lunch please?” Liam repeats.

“Are you taking the piss?” Zayn snorts. “I’m doing back to back fittings all day, you know this. Get your own bastard lunch.” There’s some shuffling on the other end, and then he says, “Hang on a minute. What do you mean, get you lunch? Did I not make you lunch this morning, prick?”

“You did, baby, thanks, I love you,” Liam sing-songs in one breath, hanging up before Zayn can snap at him anymore. “You see?”

“I don’t understand what that was meant to prove, Liam,” Louis says dryly. “So your husband won’t bring you lunch because he made you one already in your marital kitchen. What’s the point?”

“My point is that we’re less than a week from opening night, everyone is stressed and running on not much sleep and has a list of shit to do as long as their arm, yet Harry is popping out into central London at lunchtime to get you a treat.”

“He’s getting his own lunch too,” Louis argues. Liam just shrugs.

“Look, I just think…”

“Lou?”

Harry knocks on the door and opens it at the same time, sticking his head in and grinning when he sees both men in there. “Oh, hi Liam. Um, James is looking for you out here.”

Liam groans. “Brilliant. Did he say what I haven’t done this time?”

Harry shakes his head as he steps fully into the room, and that’s when Louis notices that he’s got a salad bowl, bottle of water, a dessert bag and his phone  _ all clutched in one hand.  _ His hands are big enough to hold all that stuff in just one of them. 

Louis wants to die again.

“Sorry,” he says with a shrug. “He also asked me to give you a ten-minute warning for the full run-through, which means I really need to eat this quick, but…” He pops down his lunch on Louis’s dressing table and thrusts the dessert bag at him, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m sorry I haven’t had the chance to bake for you this week, so. For you.”

“For me,” Louis echoes, resisting the urge to step on Liam’s toe, because he knows how wide his grin will be without having to look. He opens up the bag to see a giant slice of brownie, with an intricately piped letter L in the middle. He licks his lips before looking up to beam at Harry, who beams back. “Oh my god, thanks Harry.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry says, voice soft. “It was the last letter they had left off their Happy Bank Holiday Weekend traybake cake, so it felt like I had to get it for you, you know?” He perches on the edge of the table and opens up his salad bowl. “They didn’t have any H’s left, you know, for me, so.”

“It looks great,” Louis says earnestly, upset he has to wrap it back up again. He can’t really eat a piece of brownie that size  _ anyway,  _ let alone before a dress rehearsal, but Harry doesn’t need to know that. “You’re very kind, lovely Harold.”

They just keep smiling at each other for a few seconds until a cough behind him snaps Louis out of it.

“Well,” Liam says, tapping an invisible watch on his wrist. “If you two are quite finished, shall we get on?”

“Urgh, I suppose we must,” Louis pretends to tut. “You feel free to stay in here and eat, Harry. We’ll see you on stage in ten?”

Harry nods, standing up before sliding past Louis carefully to drop into the seat he was just sat in. Their arms touch ever so slightly and he forces himself to move away before he does or says something stupid or, even worse, Liam picks up on it and he teases Louis about it for the rest of his life. He goes to drag Liam out of there but Liam has another one of his dangerous grins on his face and Louis’s stomach drops.

“Hey, Harry?” Harry looks up from his salad bowl. “What’s in that bowl?”

“Um,” Harry says, pausing to swallow his mouthful. Louis  _ does not  _ watch his Adam’s apple. “Salmon, broccoli, pea shoots, avocado…”

“Avocado?” Liam repeats, his face the picture of innocence. Harry nods, spearing some on his fork and holding it out for them to see. “Looks lovely. Doesn’t it look lovely, Lou?”

“Time is of the essence, Liam, we must go,” Louis announces, too loud for the small dressing room, shoving Liam towards the door hastily. “Enjoy your lunch, Haz, see you in a second!”

The door slams behind them and Liam drops an arm over Louis’s shoulders, giving them a squeeze. “Well, well, well…”

“I never want to see you again in my life,” Louis hisses, shoving Liam off him and hot-footing it down the corridor towards the stage, Liam’s laugh ringing loud behind him as he goes.

*

Louis sees Harry cry for the first time two days before opening night.

It’s madness backstage, as it always is two days before opening night, and Louis is sweating already. His hair and makeup is done, his costume immaculate, and he and Niall are stood in the middle of the stage practicing one of their harmonies as the techies line up the lights around them, just perfecting one final scene before they kick the run through off. The band is warming up, Zayn is running around like a headless chicken with a needle and thread, and all that’s left is for the main cast to be mic'd up.

Or so Louis thinks.

An unbelievably loud crash behind them makes them all jump. The sounds from the band pit cut abruptly, Niall’s mouth slams shut mid-line, and Louis’s stomach drops all in the space of about two seconds.

And then the yelling starts.

“ _ What the… what the fuck’s happened here? Holy shit. Holy shit.”  _ A second’s pause. “ _ Are you actually useless? Is this a sick fucking joke, Styles? Are you actually totally imcompetant or is this some elaborate fucking prank?”  _ Another pause.  _ “Well, answer me, kid.” _

“What the fuck?” Niall says loudly, then does an awkward step towards Louis as both Liam and Steve appear from Stage Right and run towards the back wing where the racket is coming from. “What the hell is going on?”

“That’s Peter,” Louis says in a low voice, his heart beating at a hundred miles an hour. “What the fuck could have happened to warrant…”

He’s cut off by some more shouting, not just from Peter but this time from Steve. 

“I’ll deal with it, Pete, just… take a walk, alright? Take a walk before you make him cry even more, yeah?”

Louis’s stomach hits the floor. 

Then they hear a grunt and a growl, and then suddenly Peter storms through the curtains and onto the stage, shouldering his way in between Louis and Niall despite the fact that’s plenty of space to walk around them, before he jumps down the stairs and into the audience, slamming his way out through the central doors.

Silence stretches through the whole auditorium, from the band pit right the way back to the tech desk. 

“I need to go to Harry,” Louis blurts, not even caring who hears him at this point. But Niall grabs his hand before he can move off. 

“No,” he tells him, gentle but firm. “You can’t. If Harry’s fucked up here…”

“You heard Steve, Ni, he’s crying…”

“Yeah, but it sounds like he’s made a mistake, Louis,” Niall cuts in. “And if you go back there and…” He bites his lip. “You’re not, like, his boyfriend or anything to be the one to give him comfort.”

“I…” Louis flounders. He swallows. “I know I’m not his boyfriend.”

“Do you?” Niall asks, very seriously. “Because the way you’re looking at me with those wild eyes…”

“Lou?”

Louis looks up sharply to see Liam’s head poking through the back curtains, gesturing him forward. “Come here.”

Louis gives Niall’s hand a quick squeeze before he drops it and heads back towards Liam, painfully aware of about 50 sets of eyes staring him down as he goes. Once he gets there Liam pushes the curtain aside enough for him to step through it, then he’s dragged right over to Liam’s prompt desk, tucked away before they can even see anybody else.

“Before you leap to his defence, he’s fucked up, Lou,” Liam rushes out, just as Louis’s opening his mouth to ask what the fuck is going on. He promptly snaps it shut. “Like, a really bad fuck up.” He places both hands on Louis’s shoulders. “I want to tell you that now before… well. I don’t think they’ll fire him for it, it’s not…”

“Liam,” Louis croaks, wrapping a hand around Liam’s wrist and squeezing. “What’s happening, mate?”

“Harry, the bloody stupid fool, had a bottle of water open on the mic table,” Liam mumbles. “And literally, like, rule one of being a technician is make sure your drink bottles are closed shut before you try and operate anything electrical, you know?”

“Oh, fuck,” Louis swears.

“Yeah,” Liam says. “Six mics are now unusable, including yours and including Niall’s. Two days before opening night.” He lets out a long sigh. “So yeah, it’s a pretty big fuck up. He hadn’t realised it had knocked over and only noticed when Peter came in to check he was about to get you guys mic’d up, apparently. And that’s why he started yelling like he did.”

“Total cunt behaviour, yelling like that though,” Louis says hotly. “What a fucking prick. Everyone in the house heard him. I think even the guys in the office upstairs probably heard him.”

“I’m not saying what he did was right, Louis,” Liam says gently. “But this… Harry needs to take responsibility for this, yeah? It’s gonna be a fucking nightmare to get those mics replaced and shipped to us in time.”

“What, you can’t just order some more on Amazon or something?”

“You know we can’t just order Amazon-quality mics for a show this big, Louis.” Liam sighs. “Steve has gone to his office now to see what he can do, and Josh has gone to the loft to see if they can find any we can use in the meantime.”

Louis nods. “And where’s Harry?”

“That’s why I pulled you back here, because he’s definitely gonna want to see you right now and nobody else,” Liam says. “He’s in your dressing room, I told him to go and wait for you there. I’m telling the guys out here we’re postponing starting for half an hour, so I’ll grab Niall and ask him not to come by for a bit, okay?”

Louis nods and pulls Liam into a super quick hug. “Cheers, Payno.”

“Look after him, yeah?” is all Liam says before he turns on his heel and goes back towards the main stage. Louis can hear him clap his hands and yell, “ _ alright guys, slight technical difficulties back here but we’re picking up again in half an hour!” _

Satisfied he should have enough time to have a proper sit down with Harry, Louis hot-foots it towards his dressing room at speed, keen not to waste any of these precious minutes. He’s practically jogging by the time he reaches it and he skids to a halt outside the door, then balks as he realises he doesn’t have his  _ fucking key fob. _

He takes a deep, steadies himself, and raps his knuckles gently against the door. 

“Harry? It’s me.”

Nothing.

He knocks again a little harder. 

“Harry, love?” Another pause. “Harry, sweetheart, let me in.”

It takes a few seconds, but eventually and blessedly, he hears the familiar beep of the door opening before Harry shyly pokes his head around the corner. Louis can only see one of his eyes from this position, but he doesn’t need to see more than that to see that Harry’s been crying. His body is hunched and he seems reluctant to open the door even to Louis, so Louis gently pushes the door open as wide as he needs to just slip inside, then pulls Harry into his arms without another word.

“Hi, love.”

Harry chokes a sob above him, pressing his wet face into Louis’s perfectly coiffed hair. Louis knows Lou will yell at him for it, but right now he couldn’t give less of a shit, just pulls Harry in tighter and starts babbling anything and everything he can think of as Harry curls his taller body into him. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he coos, curling a tight hand into the back of Harry’s shirt. “It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay, I’m here, you’re okay, I’ve got you, love, I’ve got you...”

Harry snuffles and sags into him. Louis can feel how hard he’s trembling and he tries to soothe him as best he can, but he doesn’t know Harry well enough to know exactly what he needs and he hates that.

“Harry, my love,” he says gently, trying to move his head back so he can look at Harry properly. “Come on, sweet boy. Let’s get you sat down a sec and mopped up, alright?”

Harry whimpers but lets Louis manhandle him over to the sofa at the back of the room, where he plonks down and hiccups, red-rimmed eyes staring up at Louis blankly, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip.

It’s a heartbreaking sight.

“Let me grab you a tissue,” Louis murmurs, already rifling through Liam’s backpack, because the lad is a Boy Scout and is likely to have sensible things like a pack of tissues in there. Sure enough, he finds a crumpled packet of Kleenex close to the bottom and he pulls one out before turning back to Harry, where he squats down on his knees in front of him and gently starts to dab at his eyes in the same careful way he’s done countless times for his younger sisters.

“Lou,” Harry croaks, and for a second Louis thinks he’s overstepped the mark, but Harry looks up at him with no fight left in his eyes. His bottom lip trembles. “I’m gonna lose my job, Lou, I just know it.”

“You’re not going to lose your job,” Louis tells him firmly, handling Harry a second tissue for him to blow his nose with. “They can’t lose you babe, and to be honest, they’re not going to do it this close to opening night, they just… well, they just can’t.”

“If there even is an opening night,” Harry mumbles. “I’ve fucked that up for everyone, haven’t I?”

“You haven’t fucked anything up,” Louis scoffs. “What happened back there, it was an accident and we all know that, Steve and Liam and everyone who matters around here knows that, and anyway, I won’t fucking let…”

“Louis, stop being so fucking nice to me,” Harry shouts suddenly, cutting him off. Louis’s mouth snaps shut. “I fucked up. I made a massive fucking error and I’ll have to pay for it, I know that. You don’t need to fucking coddle me.”

Louis takes a deep breath. “I don’t think I’m coddling you, Haz. I’m just telling it like it is.”

“You just said…” Harry squeaks, shifting back on the sofa and further away from Louis. “You just said you won’t let them get rid of me, which isn’t how it works. You’re not… you’re just an actor, Lou, not my boss.”

Louis feels a bit like Harry’s just slapped him. “I… I know I’m not your boss, but…”

“Then why do you always act like you’re above me, or better than me, or doing me favours? Why are you even here, Louis?” Despite having a tissue in his hand, Harry wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his shirt. “I know I’m a grown man having a cry but I don’t need a goddamn babysitter.”

“I’m not here to babysit you, Haz, I’m here to check that you’re alright,” Louis says gently. “And if I’ve ever made you feel like I’m above you then… then I’m fucking sorry, okay? That was never my intention.” He moves himself over to the sofa and sits next to Harry, and as much as he wants to reach for his hand, he refrains. He isn’t sure if Harry will shove him away and he doesn’t want to risk that, for his own sanity more than anything right now. “Hey. Look at me, hey?”

Harry lets out a long sigh but turns to look at him.

“I’m here because I care about you,” he croaks out, “So much. And the fact that you have ever thought that I think I’m above you is...” He gulps. “That hurts, Haz. And I know it’s not about me right now, but I want to be here for you and make sure you know that even though there’s absolute twats like Peter on this team, you have a… well, you have me. You have me always.”

There’s a few seconds of silence and it’s more awkward between them than it’s ever been. Louis opens his mouth to barrel on - he’s never been good when there’s silence - but then Harry spits out a “ _ fuck”  _ and buries his face in his hands, breathing heavily.

“Do you want me to leave?” Louis finds himself asking quietly, tentatively. He doesn’t want to leave; hell, he’d come here under the assumption that Harry wanted him here, but…

“No, don’t leave,” Harry mumbles, and when he lifts up his head and finally turns to look at Louis his eyes are shiny with fresh tears. Louis’s heart sinks all over again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that, I don’t…”

“Hey, love, it’s fine,” Louis says, finally reaching out to take Harry’s hand. Harry squeezes his back. “You’re upset and you’re emotional, I get that.” 

“You don’t get it though,” chokes Harry, frantically wiping at his eyes with the sodden tissue. He gives Louis’s hand another squeeze. “You don’t get how much I... “ He sighs, so deep his whole body shudders, enough to give Louis goosebumps. “I feel like sometimes, like, when we’re in the same room together I can’t breathe, Louis.”

“Oh,” Louis blurts out, startled. “What…”

“You terrify me,” Harry continues. He doesn’t remove his hand from Louis’s and Louis feels like he’s hanging onto it like a lifeline. “You scare the shit out of me but  _ god.  _ You make me so weirdly happy and it’s like, I feel like when I’m with you I’m a different person? In a good way, yes, please know that it’s a good way.”

“Harry,” Louis croaks, knocking his head up gently with his free hand. When their eyes meet Louis feels like he’s looking right into his soul and it’s… it’s  _ everything,  _ quite honestly. “Harry, I feel the same, darling. I…”

“You… you do?” Harry’s eyes are wide. “You…”

“If you’re telling me that you fancy me as much as I fancy you then yes, I feel the same.” Louis gulps, then licks his lips. “You terrify me too, but in the best way.”

Harry chokes out a laugh and, as if on autopilot, they both shift closer to each other. Louis reaches for Harry’s other arm, curling a tight hand around his wrist. “Louis, I’m…”

There’s a knock on the door.

“Harry, you in there?”

Both men spring apart, Harry letting out the quietest whimper than Louis thinks he probably wasn’t meant to hear. He stands up and carefully smooths out his trousers before walking over to the door and opening it. 

On the other side is Steve, which is a relief in itself. Steve might be Harry’s boss, but he’s also a very calm and collected bloke, great in a crisis, which is probably why he works so well in a theatre. Louis holds open the door wide enough for him to step through.

“Do you want me to go, Steve?”

Steve shrugs before walking over to Harry. “Harry, lad. First of all, are you alright?”

Harry looks down at his hands. It’s alarming, Louis thinks, how such a tall, broad lad can make himself look so small like that. He doesn’t like it one bit.

“Not really,” he replies. “I’m so sorry, Steve, I’m so unbelievably sorry, I just don’t know what happened or why I didn’t think or…”

Steve holds up a hand and Harry cuts himself off mid-sentence. “Harry.” He sighs and sits himself down next to him on the sofa, where he gives his knee a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah, it’s a big old fuck-up but it’s fixable. I’ve ordered twelve new mics via special delivery for tomorrow, so we’ve got back ups.” He turns to Louis and shrugs. “Yeah, I know right. Why didn’t we have back ups in the first place?”

Louis shrugs back, not really sure why he’s still there but definitely reluctant to leave.

“I will have to mark this down as theatre property damage that could have been avoided, which may mean we deduct a small amount from next month’s pay,” Steve continues. “It’s just, like, a fine to make sure you’re more careful in the future, but it’s not as much as the value of the mics. I’m not sure, I’ll need to discuss with Ben if that’s something he wants to proceed with.”

Harry nods, head still down.

“Actually, Louis, do you mind leaving us for a few minutes?” Steve turns to him and asks. “I know it’s your dressing room and everything but I think Liam and James want to kick it off again in 10 minutes or so, so they’ll need you on stage to fit you up with the temporary microphones.”

“I… yeah, sure.” Louis spins to have a quick look at himself in the mirror and, despite the fact that his hair is a bit flatter than it should be, his clothes aren’t that creased and his make-up still looks fine. “Haz, I… actually, we’ll talk later.”

“Bye,” is all Harry offers and Louis zips out of there, his heart beating like a drum in his ears.

Does Harry fancy him back? Has he fancied him all this time?

He hurries back to the stage, knowing full well he can’t dwell on this right now when he’s about to do a full run-through of the show two days before opening night, but it’s going to be fucking hard not to.

When he gets back on stage he realises he’s the last to arrive. Niall’s already mic'd up and the second he sees Louis he makes a beeline straight towards him. 

“What happened?”

“I… I dunno if I can talk about it,” Louis says honestly, and he means that sentence two-fold. He isn’t sure if he’s allowed to tell Niall what happened with Harry, especially as he doesn’t know the whole story yet himself, but he’s also worried about saying anything to do with his exchange with Harry back there in case he jinxes it, or even worse, Harry and him aren’t on the same page like he thought. “Tell you in the interval, maybe.”

Niall nods, then looks Louis up and down. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” Louis promises, then takes a step back so one of the junior techs can mic him up. He really can’t think about it right now. He has a show to put on.

The performance goes incredibly well from start to finish. Louis feels like he’s soaring all the way through. It’s easy for him to tune out the rest of the world while he’s performing, especially a show with as much energy and complexities as this one and, once they’ve finished bowing to an empty house and the curtain drops, it takes a few minutes of notes from James and Nick and chatter with the rest of the guys for reality to hit him again. 

Harry. 

“Harry,” he says out loud to nobody in particular. Niall looks at him over his fake glasses. 

“No?”

“I need to talk to Harry,” he says, louder this time. “Fuck.” He gives Niall a quick squeeze on the shoulder. “Mate, we smashed it there, we really did.”

“We did,” Niall agrees. “But you’ve gotta find your boy, I get that.”

“He’s not my boy just yet,” Louis says, puffing out a long breath. “Gotta find him first.”

Niall stands to attention and mock-salutes him. “Godspeed, my good man.”

Louis grins at him before he disappears off backstage, speed-walking towards his dressing room at the far end of the corridor. He gathers his things quickly and walks back out into the backstage area, where thankfully he runs into Steve. 

“Hey, Louis, you off home?”

“Hey man, have you seen Harry since…” He gestures around vaguely. “Since earlier?”

“I think he’s gone home,” Steve tells him, looking apologetic. “He said back there he didn’t really want to hang around once the curtain had gone up so I said he could go.”

Louis nods, his stomach sinking. Does Harry not want to talk to him then? Does Harry not…

“Louis?” Zayn’s voice says from behind him, almost making him jump. He spins around and plasters a big fake grin on his face. “You alright, babes?”

“Yep!” Louis replies, with perhaps a touch too much enthusiasm. If anyone is going to see right through him it’ll be Zayn. “We smashed it out there, didn’t we?”

“So I heard,” Zayn says, slinging an arm around his shoulders proudly. “Shall we go and get some food?”

Louis nods again, suddenly wanting nothing more than to be outside the claustrophobic walls of backstage. “Yep,” he says again, then turns to smile at Steve. “See you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, see you dude,” Steve says before he disappears through the double doors behind them. Once he’s gone, Zayn levels him with a look. 

“You alright, bro?”

“Yep,” Louis squeaks out for the third time. “Just… adrenaline, innit?”

“Is it,” Zayn says dryly, but he doesn’t press. He knows better by now. “Liam’s having a fag out the front already, then I think we’re having dinner at the pub up the road if you wanna join us.”

Louis nods so he doesn’t say ‘yep’ again and follows Zayn out. 

He shoots Harry a quick text once they sit down in the pub. He’s alone in the booth for a couple of moments while Zayn goes up to the bar to order and Liam nips to the loo, so pulls open his and Harry’s WhatsApp chat. 

**Louis:** _ hey love. sorry we didn’t get to finish our convo properly. are you okay now? you home? xxx _

Harry comes online straight away, the ticks flicking to blue in seconds. Louis feels like he’s holding his breath the entire minute or so it takes to get a reply. 

**Harold:** _ hi Lou :) god i’m so embarrassed about today, sorry i snotted on you and stuff. i’m home now yeah, felt like i didn’t want to hang around, sorry x _

**Louis:** _ you have nothing to be sorry for love i’m just glad you’re alright xx _

**Harold:** _ still sorry though lol.  _

**Harold:** _ can we have a chat tomorrow maybe?  _

**Harold:** _ not that i don’t want to talk to you now but i’m on facetime to my sister xx _

**Harold:** _ or we can wait until it’s not the dress rehearsal day it’s up to you xx _

**Harold:** _ sorry x _

**Louis:** _ if you apologise to me one more time i’m going to end you Harold honestly  _

**Louis:** _ yes, let’s chat tomorrow. please. come to my dressing room when you’re free? xxx _

**Harold:** _ see you then :) xxx _

Louis replies with a quick thumbs up emoji and locks his phone just in time for Zayn to wobble over with three pints balanced precariously in his hands. 

“Fuck me, I need one of these,” he grunts, sliding into the booth opposite Louis and passing one over. “Today has been long as fuck.”

“I shouldn’t be drinking one of these,” Louis groans, but takes a hearty swig of one anyway. “Not this close to opening night but…” Another swig. “Today has been a fucking  _ day.” _

“Yeah, what the fuck happened?” Liam says as he slides into the booth next to Zayn, kissing his temple in thanks as he picks up his beer. “Peter was being a right prick for the rest of the day about it and I didn’t see Harry again.”

“Steve said he could go home,” says Louis. “He was really angry that Peter had made Harry cry. When I went to find him he was in bits, he was so guilty and forlorn.”

“God, I can’t believe he did that though,” Liam sighs. “What an idiot move.”

“A move that can be easily fixed,” Louis says sharply, glaring at him. “Steve is special ordering in some microphones and back up ones as well, and Harry’s being punished accordingly.” He fixes Liam with a look. “He doesn’t need you calling him an idiot behind his back as well, Liam.”

Liam holds up his hands in defence. “I didn’t call him an idiot, I said it was an idiot move.” He narrows his eyes at Louis. “And if you’re gonna sit there and spend any more of your life protesting having a crush on him, Louis, I swear to god…”

“Don’t be thick, Liam,” Louis snaps. “Clearly I fancy the pants off of him. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m half in love with him. Is that alright with you?”

Well. He said that out loud then. 

Liam and Zayn both blink at him for a couple of seconds. Liam opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again, but Zayn beats him to it. 

“You owe me £50, babe.”

Liam blushes and Louis raises his eyebrows. “I… huh? £50?”

“I bet Liam that you’d realise before opening night, he reckoned it’d be, like, halfway through the run,” Zayn says gleefully. “Niall’s the real loser here actually, because he said after the August break.”

“Huh?” Louis is stunned. “You were… you were all betting on me? On what?”

“On when you’d admit you do, in fact, want to shag him breathless and marry him and have his babies,” Zayn grins. “Thank fuck you finally said something, it was driving us all up the bloody wall.”

Louis buries his face in his hands. He feels like he might hyperventilate. “I… I didn’t know I had it this bad,” he says, baffled by his own ignorance. “I just…”

“Hang on, I’m not fucking having that,” Liam butts in. “You didn’t realise? Even though we’ve been teasing you about it for months?”

“I knew I…” It’s not often that Louis is quite literally stunned into silence, but now seems to be one of those times. “I knew I kind of, like, felt different towards him than the rest of the guys but…”

“Louis,” Zayn cuts in, eyes softening. “Babe. You call him ‘love’.”

“I call everyone a pet name,” Louis argues. “It’s the Yorkshire in me.”

“No, you don’t,” Zayn tells him, gently but firmly. “You call me and Liam ‘babe’ or ‘lad’ or whatever. Even with the girls up at the theatre, you call them ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’ but never ‘love’.” He takes a small swig of his drink and peers at Louis over the top of it. “You do call your boyfriends that though.”

Louis feels like a bucket of cold water has been poured over his head. 

“Did I…” he croaks, and he hates how his voice threatens to crack. “Did I call  _ him  _ ‘love’?”

“Him?” Liam asks, confused, then his eyes go wide. “Oh,  _ oh. _ ” He looks at Zayn, whose eyes pretty much tell Louis everything he needs to know, and he’s not even the person the glance was meant for. 

“Oh.”

“But Harry isn’t him,” Zayn is quick to stress, staring at Louis with such intensity that he almost wants to squirm. “Harry is great, Louis, and clearly you feel something for him.” 

Louis fidgets in his seat. Might as well rip off the bandaid now he’s already blurted out half his feelings. “I’ve, um, I’ve known I fancy Harry for ages but I didn’t realise that it was, like, maybe more until today.” He looks desperately between Zayn and Liam almost apologetically. “So yeah.”

“That’s amazing,” Zayn says happily, clapping his hands together with glee. “Because he clearly fancies the absolute shit out of you too and you guys are going to get married and have babies by your three year anniversary.” He clears his throat. “That’s definitely not another running bet we have going, I  _ promise. _ ”

Louis snorts. “He fancies me too, I know he does.” He chugs a good third of his pint before he says, “We admitted how we felt earlier. In the dressing room when he was crying. He snapped at me a bit and then told me it’s because I scare him.”

“What the fuck?” Liam and Zayn both say at the exact same time in the exact same tone, but none of them laugh. 

“Not in like a  _ Henry scared me _ way,” Louis rushes to say. “As in he’s scared of how much he fancies me. So I told him I fancy him back.”

“Jesus,” Liam mutters. “Christ, Tommo, you scared the shit out of me just then.”

“Can everyone stop telling me I’m scaring them?” Louis pouts, but he’s finally smiling. “But yeah, can you believe it? I fancy someone and apparently he fancies me back.”

“Any fucker with half a brain cell could have told you he fancies you, idiot,” Zayn tuts, but he grins at Louis proudly. “God, I’m so happy.” He pretends to cry on Liam’s shoulder. “Look, darling. Our baby’s all grown up.”

“Alright, don’t turf me out just yet,” Louis chuckles. “I’ll still need Mum and Dad to keep a place for me at the table in case it all goes tits up.”

“It won’t go tits up,” Liam says with uncharacteristic gentleness. He reaches across the table and grabs Louis’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You deserve this, Louis, I hope you know that. And I hope you’re excited about it all because you should be. This is a really cool thing to happen for you. Even though I did call him an idiot five minutes ago, I do really like Harry. I think he’s sweet and funny and he’d move heaven and earth if he thought it would make you smile, so yeah. I’m excited for you.”

“I am excited,  _ Mum, _ ” Louis drawls, snatching his hand back and pretending to wipe it on his napkin, but he’s deflecting and they both know it. Liam has been there through everything - from their first day of secondary school the pair have been inseparable - and if anything Liam’s now his biggest cheerleader. He’s seen Louis have a rough go with everything life’s thrown at him and picked him up when he was at his lowest of the low, so to hear Liam give his approval for this new chapter means everything to him.

Even though he’d never admit that out loud.

They share a private smile across the top of their pints and spend the rest of the evening slagging Peter off, and by the time Louis gets home he’s shattered, today’s events catching up with him both mentally and physically. He makes himself a cuppa and has a quick shower while it cools, then he clambers into bed feeling fresh and happy, so he settles down ready to have a scroll through Instagram and Twitter before bed as he always does.

There’s a goodnight text from Harry sitting on his phone from ten minutes ago and Louis thumbs it open excitedly.

**Harold:** _ i know we’re talking tomorrow properly, but i just wanted to say thank you for today. I don’t think i got the chance to say thank you for coming to find me and for giving me some reassurance when i really needed it. It means more than i think you realise :) goodnight Louis, sweet dreams xxx _

Louis feels giddy as he types out his response.

**Louis:** _ tomorrow :D sweet dreams sweet boy xxx _

Tomorrow can’t come quick enough.

*

The next day is hell.

Clearly James woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning because, even for stressed director standards, he’s a fucking nightmare. He’s snappy and short with everyone, and nobody in either the cast or the crew is safe as he thunders around.

Today’s schedule sees them focus on a few of the more choreography-heavy scenes in the morning and then do a full run-through of the show in the afternoon. It’s the kind of day that starts early and ends when it ends, and it’ll be draining and repetitive and hell on Louis’s legs because he’ll be dancing for a lot longer than normal, but it’s got to be done. It’s the same for every show he’s ever done and it’s important to make sure they’re absolutely performance ready before tomorrow.

With tomorrow being opening night, they’re thankfully allowed the evening off - one last night of normality that Louis likes to spend at home with his favourite takeaway and one of those foot masks that peels all the hard skin off; but today he isn’t thinking of that, and for the first time in his whole life the fact that he’s putting on a show tomorrow doesn’t feel like the most important thing in the world right now. Of course he’s ecstatic and excited and nervous, but he feels more comfortable in this role than he’s ever felt in any, and anyway, the nerves for this have nothing on the nerves he has about Harry.

Because he’s going to ask him out today. He’s going to stop being a coward and he’s going to stop over-analysing his feelings and just do it.

He has to.

He  _ wants  _ to.

He wants Harry so fucking badly, and now he’s realised how much he wants him he doesn’t think he can go back, not now they’ve come this close.

He doesn’t actually see Harry for most of the morning as it’s so manic, and even when he’s coming onto the stage it isn’t Harry who mics him up like normal, it’s Josh.

“Where’s Harry?” he asks, trying to keep his voice level.

Josh smirks a knowing smirk. “He’s in the booth. We’re a man down this morning because Tim had to take his wife for a baby scan, it’s all good.”

“Ah,” Louis says, then doesn’t offer any further conversation. 

He performs four dance numbers several times before they get James and Rita’s seal of approval, then he’s dismissed for a long lunch while James pulls Leigh-Anne onto the stage so they can really work on her solo song in Act II. He looks a bit maniacal as he cuts Leigh-Anne off in her first line, telling her to do it again  _ with feeling. _

Louis doesn’t envy her one bit.

He gets back to his dressing room and shoots Harry a quick text asking where he is. There’s about 25 minutes to go until their normal lunch break starts, so when he doesn’t get a reply he isn’t surprised. For all he knows Harry might have to work through his lunch if the tech team are a man short. 

He’s almost on the verge of freaking out - what if they don’t get to talk about it today and then they go back to pretending like the whole thing never happened and they don’t end up talking about it ever and Louis is resigned to life as a lonely gay spinster - when there’s a knock at the dressing room door.

Louis freezes, gulps, then rushes over and flings it open.

“Hi,” Harry says, looking almost shy. His smile is wide and pretty but his stance is nervous, hunched and apprehensive. Louis wants to kiss him until their lips are bruised and he can’t taste anything else. 

“Hi,” he parrots. “Um, come in?”

Harry nods and slides in, the door clicking closed behind him. He’s dressed all in black, his hair gathered up in a messy bun, the polish on his nails black and slightly chipped. He’s so beautiful that Louis can’t look away.

“Hi,” Harry says again. Louis grins.

“You already said that.”

“I know,” Harry says, shrugging. “I feel like… I dunno. It’s just me and you, innit? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Louis’s stomach drops and for a second he thinks he’s misread this whole thing. “I… yeah, we’re friends, Harry.” His voice comes out kind of croaky and he tries to clear his throat, but that doesn’t really make a difference. “Just me and you.”

“Louis, shit.” Harry looks mildly horrified with himself. “I didn’t mean friends, like, I don’t want us to be friends.” His eyes go wider in horror. “ _ No.  _ God, I’m so _ nervous.  _ Shit. Okay. Sorry.”

Louis steps forward and runs his hands up and down his arms. “No need to be nervous, sunshine. It’s just me and you, like you said.” He smiles up at him. “And if you’re trying to say what I think you’re trying to say… then I don’t want to be your friend either.”

It’s so ridiculous and it ends up with them both dissolving into giggles, giggles that turn into hiccuping belly laughs and tears in their eyes because it’s  _ so ridiculous.  _ Two grown men feel the same thing and yet they can’t voice it out loud no matter how hard they seem to try.

_ Ridiculous. _

When they’ve stopped laughing enough to look at each other properly again Louis, in a fit of bravery, reaches out and gently tugs him in for a cuddle, and Harry goes easily. They stand there locked in an embrace for a few long moments and Louis instantly feels calmer about the whole thing, warm and safe and happy. But they’re not going to get anywhere just hugging each other, so he decides to make a move. It’s now or never.

“Are you still nervous?” he asks, pulling back to look up at Harry.

Harry shakes his head. “No,” he says quietly. “I don’t know why I was so nervous, to be honest.” 

Louis hums happily. “You’re so cute, sweet boy.”

Harry groans. “God, I love it when you call me that.”

“What, I’ve called you that before?” Louis asks. He feels like he would remember that.

“Yesterday, when you wanted to come into the dressing room, you called me ‘sweet boy’,” Harry says, smiling softly. “And it just made me realise that I need to tell you how I feel because I want you to call me sweet boy all the time.”

“I’ll call you sweet boy every fucking day,” Louis tells him, and in a further fit of bravery he curls his fingers through Harry’s belt loops and pulls him forward. He hears Harry gulp, his breathing coming out ragged. “Harry. Lovely Harry, the sweetest boy I think I’ve ever met.”

“Louis, lovely Louis,” Harry stutters back. He moves his hands forward to touch Louis, uncertain in his movements for a second before he circles them around Louis’s shoulders. Louis beams.

“You think I’m lovely?”

“I…” Harry starts, then stops, then smiles. “Yeah, I do think you’re lovely, Louis.”

“Am I lovely enough for you to finally kiss me?”

Harry groans, his eyes fluttering closed as he leans down to  _ finally _ press his lips to Louis’s. Louis meets him in the middle, hands going up to cup Harry’s cheeks and pull them closer together, mouths slick and hot and desperate as they finally connect. Harry kisses like he’s hungry for it and at this point Louis’s truly  _ starving,  _ obsessed already with the way Harry seems as desperate for it as he does.

It’s messy at first because they’re both impatient and desperate. They pull back for air and then Louis finds himself immediately diving back in because now he’s had this he can’t stop. 

And Harry, sweet and wonderful Harry, truly is the gift that keeps on giving because he winds his arms around Louis’s waist and hoists him up without warning onto the counter so they’re a little more level in height, but tries to keep kissing him as he does so. Louis lets out a (very manly) squeak against Harry’s lips and pulls back, his grip on the back of Harry’s neck tightening.

“Sorry, was this…?”

“Fuck, that’s mad hot,” Louis grins, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth. “You lifting me like that. Really fucking hot, babe.”

“Okay, good,” Harry responds, voice deeper than Louis’s ever heard it. “Can I…?”

“Yeah,” Louis says back, and he doesn’t really know what he’s giving Harry permission to do, but right now he has permission to do anything he wants to Louis, truly. Harry dips down to kiss him again, pressing himself between Louis’s legs so there’s barely an inch between them. Louis finds himself fisting his hands in the back of Harry’s shirt and moaning into it, delighted and giddy and a little bit aroused all at once.

Harry just lifted him up like he weighed nothing at all. And yes, the counter of a dressing room is by no means the highest surface in the world, but now he’s up in Harry’s space, wrapped up in him like he’s been daydreaming about for bloody months, and he’s finally appreciating truly how much he’s into their height difference.

He’s a man obsessed and they’ve been doing this for all of three minutes.

“Harry,” he groans, hand sliding up to cup the back of Harry’s neck. Harry groans and moves back a touch, but they’re still close enough that Louis can feel his breath on his face. “Harry,  _ baby. _ ”

“God,” Harry groans back, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “That was better than I ever imagined.”

Louis beams at him. “You've been daydreaming about kissing me?” Harry flushes, biting his lip, and he nods. “Oh my god, me too. So much.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis tells him, snuggling back into his space. “And I hope I’m not overstepping or anything in asking this, but I  _ really _ want to keep kissing you?” He bites his lip, nervous all of a sudden, even though he has Harry right up in his space and they’ve just spent the last ten minutes snogging each other. “Keep kissing you in that I, um, take you out on a date and we don’t kiss other people, that kind of thing?”

Harry nods and surges forward, their mouths bumping awkwardly for a second before the kissing resumes. Louis threads his fingers back into Harry’s hair and curls a leg around the small of Harry’s back, keeping him pressed closed. 

He doesn’t think he can go back from this now he’s had it. 

“This is a yes,” Harry says suddenly, breaking the kiss to stare at Louis with his big, beautiful eyes. “This is me saying that I really want to date you. Please.”

“Please,” Louis echoes, shaking his head fondly. “You’re saying please even though I asked you out.” He blinks up at Harry, smiling as Harry nods and giggles. “Are you even real? Are you a real person?”

“I… huh?”

“Come here,” Louis says, then reattaches his lips to Harry’s and they kiss and they kiss until the alarm on Louis’s phone goes off, telling them he’s got five minutes left of his lunch break. “Ah, fuck.” 

Harry pouts. “I thought we had more time.”

Louis snorts, pulling out his phone and tapping the alarm silent. “Love, we’ve been in here doing this for nearly 40 minutes.”

“You’re joking,” Harry gasps, and he looks so adorable that Louis wants to grab him in again and kiss the living daylights out of him, the dress rehearsal be damned. 

“I wish I was,” he hums, nuzzling at his neck, biting down softly at the vein there. He hears Harry gasp and swallow audibly. “Unbelievable, honestly.”

“Well, we have tonight,” Harry points out, phrasing it like a question. This afternoon will see them do a full show run through one final time, then they’ve graciously been given the evening off before they dive head-first into opening night tomorrow. Normally, Louis has quite a strict self-care routine that he likes to stick to before any show’s opening night, but he doesn’t even remember what that is right now, not when he could be eating good food and holding hands with Harry. That’ll win over a bubble bath any night of the week.

“We do have tonight,” Louis echoes with a nod. He reluctantly drops his arms from around Harry’s shoulder and shuffles forward so he can drop down onto his feet. “Let’s get dinner, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, taking a step back so Louis can look in the mirror and at least attempt to sort out his slightly ruffled appearance. His shirt needs an iron, his trousers are creased and he’ll definitely need to reapply some concealer around his mouth, but in all fairness he could look worse. 

“God, we really have to go,” he says, eyes going wide in panic when he reads the time on the clock on the wall. “If you’ve got a few minutes do you want to book us a table somewhere?” He bites his lip. “Take me on a proper date?”

“I’m gonna date you so hard,” Harry promises, and he ducks down to kiss Louis hard and fast. “If Steve doesn’t murder me first.”

Louis snorts, unable to resist another kiss. Shit, they’re going to get  _ so  _ in trouble. “Meet you here after the show is done?”

Harry nods, and after one final kiss the pair pull apart and leave the dressing room separately, Harry heading towards the sound desk at the back of the house and Louis towards the stage. 

He feels like he’s floating the whole way there. 

“Where the hell have you been?” Niall hisses, looking him up and down as he reappears on the side of the stage. He looks thoroughly fed up. “James has lost the fucking plot, he’s…”

“Niall, my darling, all will be well for I am here now,” Louis sing-songs. “Your leading lady is ready to taketh her place on stage next to you, our hero of the hour.”

“You high?” Niall challenges. “Or drunk? I just…” Then he gasps. “Oh god, even better! You’re love drunk, aren’t you?”

Louis blinks at him innocently. “I don’t know what you mean,” he titters.

“Oh yeah?” Niall puts his hands on his hips and levels him with a look. “So ten minutes ago when nobody could find Harry anywhere, he wasn’t with you?”

“Shit,” Louis swears, suddenly worried he’s gotten Harry into trouble. “We had the lunch break, I set an alarm on my phone…”

Niall bursts out laughing. “Nobody was looking for you or Harry,” he smirks happily. “But you’ve done a great job at answering my question.” He claps Louis on the back. “I’m happy for you both. You’re cute as shit, the pair of you.”

“Thanks,” Louis says weakly. Then, because it’s Niall and he feels like he can tell Niall anything, he says, “He's taking me on a date after this.”

“No kidding!” Niall looks pleased as punch. “What a way to spend your last night of freedom, eh?”

He’s about to reply but suddenly James appears from the wings and claps his hands, signalling for them all to pay attention, and Louis is forced to spring back into character. Luckily James looks too stressed to mention his rumpled trousers, barely sparing him a glance before he disappears backstage. 

Ten minutes the lights go up and their final dress run is in full swing. 

Louis smashes it, he knows he does. It’s a high energy show from start to finish, with complex dance numbers and big pieces of set and lots of intricacies that need to be absolutely perfect, but he knows he smashes it, and the rest of the guys around him do too. If he felt yesterday’s run-through went well, then this one went  _ awesome.  _

Opening night is going to be incredible, he can feel it in his bones. 

Once the curtain goes down after their final run-through, it’s not uncommon for everyone to escape as quickly as they can to make the most of their last free evening for months, so once James and Ben have shared their notes everyone makes quick work of packing up and hurrying to their dressing rooms so they can get out of there. Louis and Niall skip to their dressing room together, both on a bit of a high from the incredible show. When they get there, they let themselves in to find Harry already inside, sitting on their sofa on his phone, which he hastily shoves in his pocket when the door opens.

“Hi,” Louis greets, grinning like a maniac. 

“Hi,” Harry parrots, then stands up and takes a couple of steps towards them. “You were brilliant out there.” Then his eyes meet Niall’s and he coughs. “Um, both of you were brilliant, I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall scoffs. He reaches past Harry and grabs his bag. “I’ll get changed in the other lads’ dressing room.” He shoots them both a knowing look. “Have a good evening, my loves!”

The door clicks shut behind them and neither of them miss a beat. Their lips meet in seconds, Harry curling his arms around Louis’s back and hoisting him forward while Louis grabs Harry’s face and tugs him down so they’re the same height. It’s frantic and it feels very  _ teenage _ , almost - kissing like this in a dressing room, of all places - but Louis couldn’t give a shit. Harry seems as into it as he is and he can’t get enough of Harry, so it’s a win-win as far as he’s concerned.

“Shit,” Harry breathes as they separate, panting. “God, I’ve wanted to do that for hours.  _ Hours. _ ”

Louis grins and leans back in for another kiss, a slower one this time as they cuddle into each other, hands fisting in the back of each other’s shirts. “Same,” he croaks as they part again. “God, Harry. God, you’re so lovely, you are.”

Harry blushes, which only serves to make Louis grin wider. “Thanks?” he says, phrasing it like a question.

“You’re welcome,” Louis hums, then tugs him down for one final quick kiss. “God, okay. We need to stop doing this or else we’ll never get out of here.” He reluctantly moves away from Harry and starts unbuttoning his shirt. “Did you book us a table somewhere?”

“I… yeah, it’s…” Harry trails off as Louis pulls his shirt off his shoulders. He frowns, confused as to why Harry stopped talking, before he suddenly twigs what he’s going and holds it up to cover himself in an awkward way.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, suddenly super self-conscious even though all he’s done is take off his shirt. “I’ll, um…”

“Don’t,” Harry croaks, then he catches himself and flushes an even deeper shade of red, if that’s even possible at this point. “Don’t, like, cover yourself. You’re just… fuck, Louis. I think you’re so beautiful, that’s all. Sorry.”

“Oh,” Louis says dumbly. He wasn’t expecting  _ that.  _ “Sorry?”

The tension in the air is thick and palpable, but once again they just blink at each other, unsure of what to say and suddenly they’re laughing again, because they’re so  _ ridiculous.  _ Things just keep bouncing from being so natural to so awkward between them, Louis was about to take off his shirt in front of someone that isn’t a close friend for the first time in years, for fuck’s sake, but the second he twigged it was  _ Harry  _ seeing him shirtless, he panicked and made it awkward and now he’s so embarrassed all he can do is bloody laugh.

“Did you just apologise for me finding you attractive?” Harry chuckles with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry I find you attractive then?”

“Shut up,” Louis stutters out. He can’t breathe, he's laughing so hard. “We’re never leaving here if you don’t stop.”

“Can I kiss you?” Harry says, still giggling as he steps forward. Louis can’t help but nod.

He marvels in the way he takes control, in the way the Harry that takes Louis into his arms is leagues more confident than the Harry from even five minutes ago. He’s smooth, cool and sure as he cups Louis’s face again and kisses him like he’s treasure, and Louis melts into it. How Harry knows to kiss him exactly how he likes to be kissed he doesn’t know, but he’s not going to fight it.

They do make it out of there eventually, with Louis in a fresh shirt and jeans (he made Harry turn around while he finished changing) and hands clasped between them. Louis feels jumpy and excited, first date nerves mixed with jitters from their dressing room exchange mixed with pure excitement for what’s in store. 

He’s going on a date with Harry and they can’t stop kissing and everything feels bloody  _ fantastic _ .

The restaurant Harry managed to book last minute is incredibly cramped and the waiter leads them to a booth at the back that looks like it’s seen better days. They slide into their seats and take a menu each, then Louis orders them each a beer before the waiter can disappear off.

“In case they forget we’re back here or something,” he says with a grin. He takes Harry’s hand across the table and they just sit there for a couple of moments staring at each other. Louis hopes it’s because Harry’s as giddy about going out with him as he is with Harry.

And if the way he’s looking at Louis is anything to go by, he definitely is.

“Hi,” Harry says after a few moments. “Sorry, I just… I can’t believe I’m here, like, on a date with you. Finally.”

“Finally,” Louis echoes, beaming. “So come on. Now we’re here, spill the beans. How long have you fancied me?”

Harry chuckles, his cheeks flushing that gorgeous pink colour. “Well, let’s see. Today’s Monday so… since the day I met you?”

Louis barks out a laugh. “Really?” he chirps incredulously, squeezing Harry’s hand. “Oh my god, Ditto.”

“Really?” Harry parrots, copying Louis’s tone, and the pair of them dissolve into giggles again until the waiter returns with their drinks.

“Yes, really,” Louis says eventually, then lifts his glass to clink it with Harry’s. “Cheers to us being slow as fuck, sweet boy.”

“God, I love it when you call me sweet boy,” Harry says with a shy grin. He takes a long pull of his beer. “I don’t know why I like it so much but I really do.”

“I know, love,” Louis hums. He sets down his beer and cracks open the menu in front of him. “Now what’s good here?”

Five minutes later, their food and a round of cocktails (virgin for Louis, much to his chagrin) are ordered and, once Harry’s nipped to and back from the loo, they settle once again with their fingers linked across the table, basking in each other’s company.

“I haven’t been on a first date in bloody years,” Harry admits quietly. He toys with Louis’s fingers gently but keeps his head down, like it’s an admission that he isn’t quite sure he should have made aloud. “And it’s weird ‘cause like, I think we know each other quite well at this point, but I also realised yesterday there’s a lot about you I don’t know yet.”

“Oh, yeah?” Louis asks, brows raised. “What would you like to know about me then?”

“Well, lots of things,” Harry says, looking up with a toothy grin. Louis wants to melt a little at the sight. He doesn’t have any fucking idea how he got so lucky with this kid. “I know you and Zayn and Liam are best friends from before the show started, which is pretty cool.”

“It is pretty cool,” Louis says. “I love those two like they’re my brothers, honestly. Although they’re definitely not brothers to each other. Gross.” He wrinkles his nose. “Fucking hell. It’s definitely bad form to make incest jokes on a first date, isn’t it?”

Harry snorts. “Maybe, but I appreciated it.”

“That’s only because you want me to keep calling you sweet boy,” Louis banters back, and Harry shrugs, unabashed. “Anyway, yeah. Liam and I have been friends since day one of year seven, then Zayn joined our school in sixth form and the pair of them did this dancing act around each other for the best part of our first year there. They got together the summer of Year 13 and they’ve been together ever since.”

“That’s really sweet,” Harry coos. “And what about you? How long have you been in London? Because clearly, love,” he says in a horrendous imitation of Louis’s Yorkshire twang, “you’re not from around these parts.”

“That was offensive,” Louis tells him, shaking his head. “Honestly horrifying. I’m breaking up with you already.”

“Alright, I’m sorry.” Harry holds up his hands. “Answer the question please.”

Louis grins and gives Harry’s hands a quick squeeze. “I moved here first for uni actually. Got my degree in Musical Theatre, would you believe, but then at the end of uni I moved back and forth between home and here for about a year.”

“Oh, yeah?” Harry asks. “How come you moved home?”

It’s an innocent enough question and one that’s so simple that it shouldn’t catch him off guard, but it still makes Louis take a breath, needing a moment to prepare himself. He’s still rubbish about talking about anything to do with that year, even this many years on from it. 

“My mum died,” he says quietly, shrugging his shoulders gently. He looks down at his drink so he can’t watch Harry’s face fall like it inevitably has. “She’d had cancer for a couple of years but yeah. She died that year so I moved back for a bit, helped with my siblings and all that important stuff.”

“Shit, Louis, I…” Harry looks mortified, bless him. “I had no idea, I’m really sorry I asked.”

“Hey, it’s fine, love,” Louis assures. “You were gonna find out sooner or later, and it’s not an unreasonable question for a first date.”

Harry nods. “I’m sorry about your mum,” he says softly, gently, in a way that sounds like he’s genuinely upset by it rather than it’s something he feels he should say. “I, um, my stepdad died of cancer last year too. It’s fucking shit, isn’t it?” 

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry.” Louis gestures for Harry to give him his other hand, which he takes across the table, and he gives them both a long but gentle squeeze. “Absolute bollocks to cancer, honestly. I hate it so much.”

“Same,” Harry says, then clears his throat. “Sorry to bring the mood down like that. I just thought if you were sharing I could too.”

“Thank you for sharing,” Louis says, and he means that. There’s something about losing a parent, a pain and sorrow that will never leave your soul, that can only be understood by someone else who’s gone through the same thing. There’s no other pain comparable. “Right, yes. Let’s talk about happier things instead of this, lovely Harry.” He drops one of Harry’s hands so he can reach for his beer. “Tell me about your move to London.”

Harry launches into a story about how he’d studied Music Production at the University of Manchester before following his girlfriend of two years down to London once they’d both graduated. He flushes a deep red when he talks about his ex, clearly embarrassed to be bringing it up on the first date, but Louis doesn’t mind. He probably would have minded if it was anyone else, but there really is something to be said about Harry’s sweet as sugar authenticity, like he wants Louis to understand that she used to be part of his life story, but not anymore. 

“I don’t think we really liked each other that much towards the end,” Harry says sheepishly with a shrug as he rounds off his story. “But I’m very much in love with the idea of being in love and I’d followed her to London, so the breakup was still a hard pill to swallow.” Louis nods, squeezing his hand gently before they have to separate so the waiter can place their meals in front of them. “But anyway. Everything happens for a reason, right?”

“Her loss is currently my gain,” Louis grins around a chip. He watches as Harry blushes and looks down at his plate, hiding his pleased smile behind his floppy hair. “You’re lovely, you are.”

“Stop,” Harry blushes, fiddling with his fringe before he pushes it back so Louis can see the delicious pink of his cheeks. “You think too highly of me already, I’d say.”

“Nah,” Louis shrugs, smiling softly. He squeezes Harry’s hand. “I think you’re lovely and I’m gonna keep telling you that until you ask me to stop.”

“Only if I can tell you how lovely I think you are,” Harry fires back, and Louis finds himself blushing equally as red.

God, if this is how flirting between them is going to go, he’s really going to need to work on schooling his reactions. He can’t blush like this  _ every  _ time, for fuck’s sake.

The rest of the evening goes too quickly for Louis’s liking and by the time their dessert plates have been cleared away and their drinks have long since been finished, Louis is pretty convinced that Harry is actually perfect and he doesn’t know how he got so lucky. Their ankles stay hooked under the table the entire evening and when there’s no plates of food between them their hands stay linked as well. Louis’s never been this tactile with someone before this early on and it sends a little thrill up his spine every time Harry strokes over a knuckle.

They agree to split the bill but when it arrives while Harry’s in the loo he decides to cover the whole thing because he’s a gentleman and he feels like Harry deserves the treat, if not for the fact that he’s just taken Louis on the best first date he’s ever had but also because it’s been one hell of a week already and it’s only going to get more intense. From what he gathers, this is Harry’s first production of this size and he’s probably in for more of a shock than he realises. And even though Harry pouts and protests when he returns, Louis can tell he’s secretly chuffed from the way he smiles when he thinks Louis isn’t looking.

They leave the restaurant hand in hand even though they’re both going to have to go in different directions once they get outside. Once they get outside onto the busy London street, it’s loud and a bit chilly but Louis isn’t ready to leave yet. And neither, it seems, is Harry, before he turns to Louis and wraps him in a hug.

“Do you wanna do this again?” Harry asks, biting his lip. It’s rather a stupid question, Louis thinks, because he’s got his arms around Louis’s middle and Louis has one arm wrapped around his neck, the other resting lightly on his chest. 

“No, tonight sucked,” he teases, rolling his eyes. “I absolutely want to do this again, Harry. This was such a lovely evening.”

“For me too,” Harry grins, then he licks his lips. “Can I, um, can I kiss you then?”

“You don’t need to ask to kiss me,” Louis tells him, already leaning into him. Harry meets him halfway, his lips soft and gentle as they move against Louis’s passionately. It’s the kind of kiss that makes Louis’s head spin and it’s probably a bit intense for a Monday night on a busy London street, but Louis doesn’t care. He wants to be kissed like this every day for the rest of his life. 

When they break apart they’re both smiling. Harry gently leans forward to brush a piece of hair from Louis’s eyes, his touch lingering longer than it needs to. 

“God,” he breathes, and Louis giggles. “That was…” He doesn’t finish, just keeps staring at Louis. Louis has to drop his gaze because it’s making the hairs at the back of his neck prickle. 

“It was indeed,” he says, voice low, then looks back up and bites his lip. “Shall we do this again on Sunday? After the week of madness?”

“Yes please,” Harry rushes out, which makes them both laugh. “God, yes. We need to have something to look forward to after this week, I reckon.”

“I agree,” Louis says, then groans. “God, I should order an Uber. Tomorrow is gonna be a wild one.”

“Agreed,” Harry nods. “Well, I’m getting the night bus.” He tilts his head to the left. “That one over there, to be precise.” 

“Do you live far?” Louis asks. “Wanna jump in with me?”

Harry shakes his head. “Nah, it’s only about three stops. Get yourself home and ready for tomorrow. I’ve taken up enough of your pre-first night already.”

Louis tuts at him. “It was worth every minute, love.”

“Glad you think so,” Harry murmurs before leaning back in to kiss him. “Because I do too.”

They part ways reluctantly after a few more minutes of snogging, where they’re forced apart by Louis’s phone ringing, the Uber driver impatient. He gives Harry a final, lingering hug goodbye, jumps in and grins out the window the whole drive home. 

Once he’s back in his flat he heads to the kitchen and pops the kettle on, pulling his phone out of his back pocket as he goes. There’s a text from Harry, because of course there is, and he grins as he thumbs it open. 

**_Harold:_ ** _ I loved tonight! Thank you so much for treating me to dinner and for taking me out on a date :) the start of many more hopefully! Let me know you got home safe xxx _

**Louis:** _ home :) are you home too? tonight was great and i cant wait to do it again :D :D definitely the start of many more to come!!! Xxx _

**_Harold:_ ** _ definitely :D :D :D xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx _

Louis leans back against the kitchen counter and grins as he locks his phone. He feels very cheesy and very lame, but also he can’t bring himself to care. He hasn’t had a first date in six years and he’s  _ happy. _

This feels like the start of something wonderful. 


	3. III

**‘I love you more than words can wield the matter, Dearer than eyesight, space and liberty.’**

**(King Lear – Act 1, Scene 1)**

  
  


Starting a new relationship as they start a run as intense and busy as  _ The Book of Mormon,  _ was perhaps not ideal in terms of timing, but it does mean they’re together all the time. 

On days when they’ve only got the one show they’ll hang on in the mornings, go for picnics, brunches, cute little dates in tea shops, and dessert places. On two-show days, Harry will eat lunch in Louis’s dressing room and hang out wherever and whenever they can. They’ll get late night takeout from one of the local restaurants they walk by to get home and, because Harry lives ever so slightly closer, they’ll head there after. 

Their schedule is very unique to their industry. They get used to meeting for breakfast at lunchtime, starting work around 4pm on weekdays (11am if they have a matinee performance), finishing close to midnight and then staying awake until 4am because Louis is pumped up on adrenaline and they’ll never get to see each other otherwise. It’s weird but it works for them, and because they have the same weird schedule, they spend basically all their free time together.

It’s quite intense, really, how quickly they go from just Harry and Louis to _ HarryandLouis _ . Without even realising it, Louis has spent every single day for the past three weeks with Harry in some way, and that includes their days off when they’ve gone for picnics in Hyde Park or to the cinema or for dinner. They do a lot of talking, keen to learn as much about each other as they can. Their topics of conversation ranging from their hopes and dreams to space travel. It’s weird but it’s  _ them  _ and Louis finds Harry to be one of the most interesting people he’s ever met.

Harry is a fucking weirdo, but in the  _ best  _ way. He talks to Louis about the things he loves in such a passionate way that it’s impossible to be bored listening to him, even though what he’s interested in are things like baking and designer fashion and fancy cars, which is the polar opposite to Louis’s key interests - takeaway, comfy sportswear, and football; but Louis finds himself fascinated by Harry because he’s so in love with the things he loves, which Louis thinks is beautiful. It makes him wonder (and hope) if Harry will talk about  _ him  _ like that one day.

Harry is also hilariously funny and Louis doesn’t think he’s ever laughed as much as he has with anyone else. They spend hours laughing and talking and kissing and just being  _ together  _ in between their frantic workdays, and Louis really feels like he’s living what he could call his best life. Things are crazy busy, but he’s very much enjoying himself, something he feels he hasn’t let himself do in a long time.

He hopes things stay like this. 

The first time Louis sleeps over at Harry’s place, they're about three weeks into their budding relationship as well as their run of performances, and it’s an uncharacteristically warm night for the end of May. It’s a Sunday night and the pair had picked up some takeaway noodles from one of Harry’s favourite Japanese places a few streets away. They hold hands as they traipse back to Harry’s flat, both of them tired and grumbling between them about how hot they are even at half eleven at night. 

They eat pressed together on Harry’s sofa while a late night game show plays on the telly. They don’t do a lot of talking but it’s late, and Louis is knackered from a heavy week of performing and promo. They have a day off tomorrow where they can talk anyway. It’s nice to just be close to Harry outside of the theatre walls though, so he sucks it up for a bit, but after a while all he can think about is how  _ tired  _ he is. 

“Babe, I’m gonna order my Uber,” he yawns into Harry’s shoulder, headbutting it gently before he pulls back, reaching for his phone. “I’m sorry I’m a bit rubbish company, but I’m just so tired.”

“Sleep here,” Harry blurts, curling a hand around Louis’s wrist before he can open the app. Louis blinks at him. “I know, like, you haven’t yet and you can absolutely say no but,” He shrugs. “Up to you.”

“Are you sure?” Louis locks his phone, stuffing it back into his pocket. He suddenly feels a lot more awake than he did a second ago. “Like, I don’t have any of my stuff.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Harry shrugs again. “It’s our day off tomorrow, and we’re not going anywhere. I’d just be coming to yours tomorrow or whatever, wouldn’t I?” He blushes and then shovels another forkful of noodles in his mouth. “Besides,” he splutters, “I bought a toothbrush for you and there’s Yorkshire tea in the cupboard if you want it.”

“You bought my tea?” Louis stares at him, feeling twitchy and warm as Harry’s blush deepens. “Harry, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did.” Harry smirks at him from behind his hair. “How else am I going to convince you to stay over?”

“I’ll stay,” Louis beams, then dives into Harry’s arms. “I’ll absolutely stay. God, you’re so lovely.”

After that, they make quick work of tidying away the food - Louis puts their leftovers in Tupperware containers while Harry washes their plates and cups - then they head towards the bedroom, where Louis is hit by an inexplicable bout of nerves. They come from nowhere and he almost hesitates, but Harry seems so eager to show him that he bought Louis’s preferred brand of toothpaste that he squashes them down. 

There’s no expectations for tonight. He knows this, but he hasn’t shared a bed with anyone (apart from Zayn and Liam, after one particularly drunken night) since he shared one with Henry. It isn’t at all that he doesn’t trust Harry, not for a second, it’s more about what this represents. 

There’s sleeping over and then there’s  _ sleeping over _ . Louis wants both with Harry, but they feel monumental to him in a way he thinks they probably don’t to Harry. 

_ Harry’s slept with 36 people that aren’t you,  _ his brain helpfully reminds him.  _ It’s not that deep for him to share a bed with someone.  _

“Everything okay?” Harry’s voice snaps him out his reverie. “Do you want some fresh boxers to sleep in?”

Louis nods and forces a smile. “Yes, please.”

Harry’s halfway through opening a drawer but he pauses, frowning at what Louis’s said. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I am,” Louis reassures and then, because he’s panicking and his brain to mouth filter is apparently shot to shit, he blurts, “Do you want to have sex with me?”

Harry blinks at him. 

“Sorry,” Louis mumbles. “I just panicked there. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.” Harry hands Louis a pair of boxers and hip-pops the drawer closed. As Louis takes the boxers, he sees they’re new, unworn and in his size, so Harry’s even gone out and bought fresh underwear for him to keep here. He stares at it, a little in disbelief, then looks up at Harry. 

“You bought me boxers?”

Harry nods, shrugging. “I wanted to get you some bits to have here so you feel comfortable here, you know? Like I don’t want to force you to sleep in my ratty old Calvin’s.” He coughs lightly. “And yes, in answer to your question. I do want to have sex with you, but that isn’t why I asked you to stay over.”

“Oh.”

“Lou, honey,” Harry says, moving into his space. He kisses him on the forehead. “I’m no mind-reader; but it doesn't take one to work out that you’re not ready to sleep with me just yet, and that’s absolutely fine by me.”

“Oh?”

“Honestly, I’m just super excited to, like, have you in my bed and wake up next to you, like I can’t stress that enough. There’s no sexpectation here, Lou.”

“Did you just say  _ sexpectation _ ?” Louis sneers incredulously, which graciously breaks the tension. “Oh my god.”

Harry grins. “Yeah, it’s a word I made up just now. Do you like it?”

“No,” Louis snorts, shaking his head in disbelief. “I like you though, and would very much like you to get in bed with me and give me a kiss so I don’t say anything else stupid this evening.”

“I can do that.” Harry loses his top, leaving himself just in his boxers, and clambers into bed next to Louis and pulls him into his arms. They don’t do much talking after that. 

When Louis wakes up the following morning, the bed is empty next to him. He frowns, then realises the bed is still warm and Harry can’t have gone far. His question is answered a couple of seconds later when he hears the toilet flush and then a few moments after that Harry reappears in all his glory, tip-toeing in before he sees Louis is awake. 

“Morning, baby.”

“I wanted to wake up next to you,” Louis pretends to pout. “And you weren’t here.”

“Well,” Harry traipses round to his side of the bed and climbs in, pulling Louis into him. “Let’s pretend then.”

“What?” Louis says flatly, but he’s curling into Harry’s warm body as he says it. 

“Morning, baby,” Harry says again, pretending to wake up slowly. He blinks at Louis a few times then lets out a giant fake yawn. “What a beautiful sight to wake up to.”

“You’re so annoying,” Louis tells him, but he can’t lie, he appreciates the sentiment. “I can’t believe I have to wake up next to such a great big  _ dork _ .”

“Mmm, better get used to it, sweetheart,” Harry hums, tucking himself under the duvet so only his head is visible. “Anyway, did you sleep alright?”

“Like a log,” Louis says honestly, sliding down so he can tuck himself in like Harry has. He hooks his leg around Harry’s so their bottom halves are mostly pressed together. “Your bed is comfy.”

“Yeah?” Harry says happily. “Comfy enough for you to want to sleep in it again?”

“What a line,” Louis groans, but then he nods. “Yeah, absolutely I’d sleep here again, if you’ll have me.”

“I’ll have you right now,” Harry chuckles, then he realises what he said and his eyes go wide. “Wait, I  _ mean _ , like, I’m happy you’re in my bed; and I want you back here tonight and other nights, but not for sex.” He coughs awkwardly. “Well,  _ eventually  _ sex of course. Or not of course. We never have to have sex if you don’t want to have sex, but I would love to have sex with you. If you  _ want  _ to have sex with me, that is.”

“Harry?” Louis interrupts. “Shut up.”

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” Louis says, shuffling forward so he can stroke away the worry lines from Harry’s face. “I really appreciate you being okay with me saying I’m not ready yet. It’s not like I’m some blushing virgin, I’m just…” He sighs. “One day I’ll tell you about my ex and what a shit he was. One day I will.” He licks his lips. “I really like you, Harry.”

“Fuck, I really like you too,” Harry says, leaning forward and kissing him on the forehead. “And I’m totally fine with waiting as long as you want us to, I swear. You just make me nervous.”

Louis lets out a shocked bark of laughter at that. “I make you nervous?”

“Yeah, like, in a good way,” Harry assures him. “Like I just said, I really bloody like you and the idea I could have made you uncomfortable for a second is just not okay.”

“But I’d tell you if you made me uncomfortable,” Louis says, moving closer to Harry and letting Harry curl an arm around his back. He kisses Harry’s neck, a long press of lips to the warm skin there, and he smiles when he feels Harry’s body soften and untense in his arms. “And I don’t feel uncomfortable around you  _ ever _ . I don’t, like, worry about sharing a bed with you or anything.” He laughs dryly. “I know that’s like the bare minimum you should expect from your partner, so please don’t think I think lowly of you or anything.”

“I just want you to feel comfortable,” Harry mumbles into his shoulder. “And I don’t need to know what happened with your ex, I just know I want to be everything he sounds like he wasn’t.”

“You already are,” Louis assures him. “Fuck, you’re a  _ million  _ times the boyfriend he was already.” He pulls back and shakes his head. “Anyway. Sorry. I didn’t ever want to talk about that shit in your bed like this, it’s not fair.”

“That’s okay,” Harry says, gently tucking some of Louis’s hair out his eyes. “I’m literally just so happy you’re in my bed in the first place.”

“Me too,” Louis grins, leaning forward to give Harry a kiss. He’s so overwhelmingly happy in a way he hasn’t been in a long time; and now in the bright light of day, he can’t understand why he was ever nervous to spend the night here. Harry is nothing but respectful, and Louis has always known he’s nothing like Henry. He’s upset that he’s making so many comparisons to him in his head. 

They spend the rest of the day in Harry’s flat and Louis doesn’t even feel the need to go home again, so when Harry shyly offers to cook him dinner and asks if he wants to stay the night again, Louis agrees without a second thought. Anything that lets him spend more time with Harry. 

Sleepovers start happening several times a week from that day forward. Harry sleeps over at Louis’s flat for the first time later that week after a double show day and because they’re both so tired he’s kind enough not to mention the mountain of washing up in the sink or the unmade bed.

Not kind enough not to mention the pack of cigarettes in the kitchen or the forgotten jizz tissue on the pillow on Harry’s side of the bed, but Louis supposes those two are deserved. 

They start staying at Harry’s more often because it’s closer to work and Harry is more of a put-together adult than Louis has ever been. His fridge is stocked, and he’s still always baking something and after a while Louis starts to feel more at home in Harry’s house than he does on his own. There’s something about his flat he’s never really loved - maybe because he rushed to sign the lease for it after his breakup with Henry, so it always felt like he lived there out of necessity more than anything else - but pretty soon his favourite clothes, his spare phone charger, and his orthopaedic pillow make their way over there. 

They fall asleep tangled together most nights, Louis as the big spoon to Harry’s little spoon. Even though he’s taller than Louis by a good few inches Harry fits snugly against him like he belongs there and Louis feels like having Harry beside him lets him sleep better than he has in a very long time. 

Harry doesn’t bring up sex again, which Louis is grateful for. He’s very well aware that he doesn’t have anything to worry about, not really - even if he  _ was  _ a virgin, Harry wouldn’t judge him, he’s sure - but he thinks being a virgin would almost be easier than what he’s feeling right now. 

He’s scared he won’t be any good. 

It’s been two years since he last had sex and if he’s honest, Louis can’t really pinpoint the event in his memory. Their schedules were so disjointed and disconnected for each other that Henry was barely home when Louis was, so sex was always rushed and kind of boring. 

Harry, on the other hand, has had 36 other sexual partners - Louis assumes a fair mix of both girls and boys since Harry’s told him he’s right down the middle when it comes to his sexuality - and Louis is scared that he doesn’t know what to do anymore. He’s terrified that because Harry clearly loves sex and having sex with different people that Louis being nervous and a little bit inexperienced will work against him. 

They’ve never actually talked about previous sexual partners, kinks, or even who will top and who will bottom. He kind of doesn’t want to either, he kind of just wants to let it happen naturally one day because he’s scared that if he starts talking he’ll talk himself out of it, or  _ worse _ , put Harry off entirely. 

They’re kissing on the sofa one night after a show and while it starts off as innocent snogging, it doesn’t stay that way for long. Louis doesn’t realise he’s halfway to hard until Harry breaks the kiss with a grunt, shuffling to put a bit more space between their bodies. 

“What?”

“You’re…” Harry vaguely gestures downwards. “And I’m also…”

“Oh… hard?” Louis croaks, cheeks flaming. “Yep.”

“Yep,” Harry parrots, sitting back on his haunches and brushing his hair from his face. “We can stop now if you want, sorry. It just felt really nice to be kissing you.”

“What if we didn’t stop?” Louis bites his lip and reaches back up to Harry, cupping his face, hoping his hands aren’t trembling too much. They both want this, clearly, and Louis feels safe and brave enough to ask, especially now Harry is hard too. “What if we… did something?”

Harry nods jerkily. “I mean yes,  _ absolutely  _ let’s do that if you want to.”

“I want to,” Louis replies, then squawks as Harry leans down to kiss him again, hard and filthy. It’s a messy kiss, charged with agenda and want, and Louis feels himself sinking into it and letting Harry easily take the reins. 

Then Harry cups his dick through his joggers and Louis just about comes on the spot. 

“Jesus,” he groans, letting his head fall back against the arm of the couch as Harry slowly leans back so he’s resting on his haunches again and tucks two fingers under the waistband of Louis’s joggers, watching him carefully like he’s suddenly going to run away. 

“Can I?” he asks tentatively. 

“Yeah,” Louis rasps, nodding. “I’m not… I want this, darling, I promise.”

Harry bites his lip as he leans forward and uses both hands to slide the joggers down Louis’s joggers past his bum and down his legs ever so slowly. Louis gasps as he’s suddenly exposed, but Harry doesn’t give him any time to overthink it - he wraps his hand around Louis’s cock and gives it a couple of careful, gentle tugs. 

“Is this okay?”

Louis nods, and then asks shyly, “Can you kiss me?”

Harry keeps a hand on his cock as he moves forward and presses their lips together slowly, licking into his mouth in that way that makes Louis’s head spin. He feels like he’s wound tight, a mix of nerves and excitement and pleasure all at once, but kissing Harry is grounding. It reminds him what he’s doing and why he’s doing it. He actually feels okay, safe and looked after as Harry continues to kiss him and jerk him off at the same time. 

He’s embarrassed at how quickly he comes, but it’s with a grunt and a whine against Harry’s swollen lips. He feels Harry smile into the kiss, wonderful and warm, and as Louis comes down from his high, the kiss gets slower until eventually Harry breaks away and then  _ licks  _ some of the jizz from his fingers. 

Louis groans. “God, that is embarrassing.”

“Not embarrassing,” Harry jumps in quickly. “You even said it had been a while so I wasn’t expecting hours of stamina from you if I’m honest.”

“Thanks babe.” Louis blushes and looks down to the mess between their bodies. He really needs a tissue. “And, um, thank you for the, um, you know.”

“You can say hand job, darling, you’re a 26 year old man.”

“Shut up,” Louis whines. “This is a big deal for me, jerk.”

Harry giggles and kisses Louis again. “Hand job.”

“God,” Louis scoffs. “No more hand jobs  _ ever  _ again.” He freezes. “Unless… I mean, should I do you?”

“There’s no  _ should _ about it, sweetheart,” Harry says gently. “You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” Louis says firmly, his voice only trembling a little bit. If he’s honest he was probably more worried about Harry touching him than he is about touching Harry. He bets Harry looks beautiful when he orgasms and he would really like to find out. 

“Yeah?” Harry still looks tentative as he moves a hand to the drawstring of his joggers. “We don’t have to if-“

Louis moves to sit up and undoes Harry’s joggers for him. “I want to,” he says again, looking up at Harry and licking his lips. “It’s been a bit, sure, but I’m sure I can remember how to get someone off.”

It’s weird more than it’s scary, having a cock in his hand again. Harry’s penis is long, much longer than Louis’s but not as girthy, and Louis ends up using both hands to work Harry off. It doesn’t take long—he’s always hard and pretty worked up from getting Louis off—and when he comes, it’s with a moan of Louis’s name and a full body shudder that Louis thinks might be one of the hottest things he’s ever seen. 

The fact that Harry seems as attracted to Louis as Louis is to Harry is one the hottest things he’s ever seen. The fact that he’s so worked up from just getting Louis off with his hand makes Louis feel some type of way he hasn’t in a long time. 

They spend the rest of the night making out, not taking it anywhere further, but Louis hopes Harry feels the same as him - they’ve overcome the first hurdle and they both want each other so much, so they’ll just take every day as it comes. 

No pun intended. 

After a couple of nights of experimental hand jobs and making out while they get themselves off, Harry surprises Louis with a blow job in the shower. It’s been a busy day at the theatre and one of those incredible nights where Louis gets a drawn out standing ovation for just him when he does his bow, so he’s been on a high all evening. When they get back to Harry’s flat he tells Harry he wants a shower before they eat because he feels sweaty and gross, which is why he’s kind of surprised when Harry follows him into the bathroom. 

“Haz?” he says, not self-conscious as such but more confused. “What are you doing in here?”

Harry pulls down his jeans and boxers in one swift moment then wrestles the top over his head before he slides into the shower next to Louis and immediately drops to his knees. 

Louis forgets how to  _ breathe.  _

“Can I?” he begs Louis, eyes wide and beautiful as the water pours down around them, making him look like some kind of water nymph. “You did so fucking good tonight, baby, and the crowd loved you so much. Wanna reward you.”

“Jesus, Harry,” Louis says, hot all over and not because of the scalding water. “I…”

“You’re perfect,” Harry says, voice lower than Louis has ever heard it, pressing wet kisses to his thighs. “God, you just… the idea of you in here, wet and soapy and  _ perfect…” _

“Kiss me,” Louis begs, then bends down and takes Harry’s face in his hands. Their lips slide together, hot and wet, the angle awkward but neither of them making a move to change it. The thought of whether this looks like some hilarious porn scene flashes across his mind briefly and it almost makes him laugh, grinning against Harry’s lips as he licks into his mouth. 

Harry clearly takes his grin as affirmation because he tears away from Louis’s mouth and starts kissing down his chest and stomach, hands curled around the backs of his thighs. His breath is hot and wet over Louis’s dick, already well on the way to being hard, and when he takes Louis in his mouth Louis thinks he might be seeing stars. 

Louis doesn’t have a very long dick, it’s certainly shorter than any of his partners’ have ever been, but he still marvels at how Harry makes a big show out of sucking his cock. His movements are long and languid to start with but they become faster,  _ greedier  _ almost, as he adjusts to the size of it in his mouth. 

He’s a fucking vision, on his knees for Louis with his long hair now soaked, falling down his back in tendrils. His eyes are closed, maybe to stop water getting in them or maybe to focus on the task in hand, Louis isn’t sure, but he can’t believe he’s lucky enough to get Harry like this. He’s  _ so _ turned on by this, more turned on than he’s been in bloody years, and he wants to feel this feeling forever. 

His legs tremble with pleasure and his breathing is erratic, his skin bright red all over. It feels like all the time in the world and no time at all when his orgasm hits him, pleasure crashing over him like a wave, as he spills down Harry’s waiting throat. His knees buckle but the grip Harry has on his thighs stays firm. 

“Oh my god,” he gasps out, his feet struggling for purchase on the slippery shower floor. He leans his back against the wall as Harry lets go of him to stand, then he immediately crashes against his front. “Oh my god, thank you, thank you, that was so good.”

“Can I?” Harry rumbles, voice deep and strained, clearly turned on himself. Louis glances down to see his cock hard and heavy, looking borderline painful it’s so red. 

“Touch yourself,” Louis encourages, cupping his face for another kiss. “Kiss me and touch yourself.”

Harry doesn’t need telling twice. Louis grips his face and kisses him and kisses him while he works a hand over himself roughly. When he comes he sags, curling an arm around Louis’s middle to keep him standing as he spills his load all over the shower floor. Louis watches it get washed down the drain before moving to stroke Harry’s sopping hair out his face, lips seeking out another kiss. 

Louis loves kissing Harry so much. 

“Baby,” he says roughly, stroking over the sweaty skin of Harry’s back. “Jesus Christ, baby.”

“God,” Harry says, still panting a little. He pulls back to look at Louis, a beautiful bemused grin on his gorgeous face. “You’re so incredible, you know that?”

“You did all the work,” Louis protests shyly, but his grin is still just as wide as Harry’s. “Not exactly a hardship to let you join me in the shower like that, was it?”

“Yeah, but still.” Harry pulls Louis in for another snog, kissing any lingering self-consciousness away. “It’s new and it’s us, but  _ fuck,  _ Lou. All I could think about from the sound booth when everyone was applauding you like that was how fucking lucky I am.” Another kiss. “I’m so fucking lucky to have you, darling.”

“Not as lucky as I am,” Louis chokes out, which is sappy and perhaps a little over the top, but he means it. “And I appreciated that so much.” He pats Harry’s cheek and giggles. “I think maybe we should stop wasting all the hot water though.”

They clean off and wash their bodies before shutting off the shower and drying off. They both wear nothing but boxers to eat their dinner and go to bed sated and happy as has become the norm for them these days, Louis spooning Harry from behind. 

While a blow job has never been his preferred choice of foreplay Louis returns the favour a couple of days later and something interesting strikes him.

He  _ likes  _ this. 

He’s never been one for giving or receiving head. He’s always been one to go all or nothing and Henry’s balls always would always smell a bit weird when he actually got round to doing it, so he never really initiated it with him, but Harry makes him feel like he’s some sort of Olympic champion of blow jobs. 

Louis is kind of terrified of trying to stuff all of Harry’s length into his mouth, but it turns out Louis doesn’t have much of a gag reflex in the first place. He discovers this the first time he goes to put Harry in his mouth and while Harry coos above him that he doesn’t need to take it all, he can start by licking and kissing the tip and working up to it, it happens pretty organically. 

“Holy  _ shit _ .” Harry gapes at Louis as he slowly works his mouth from the tip to halfway down the shaft in one fluid movement, working up to taking more and more and using his fist to work over what his mouth doesn’t quite reach. It feels like no time at all before Harry’s thighs begin to tremble, a now-familiar tell-tale sign, and Louis slides back and opens his mouth, catching the ribbons of cum on his lips and chin. 

“Have you been eating pineapple?” he goes to joke, then his eyes go wide when he hears the roughness of his own voice. “Oh my  _ god _ , Harry.”

“Jesus Christ, that’s so hot,” Harry mumbles, ducking down to kiss Louis, licking his  _ own cum _ off his lips. He smirks at him as he pulls back, looking mighty pleased with himself, then he frowns. “Shit, your voice. You’re on stage tomorrow.”

Louis bursts out laughing. “It should be fine by then, babe, or at least I bloody hope so.” 

“Let me make you some tea,” Harry says, kissing him again in apology, and Louis gets up and follows Harry into the kitchen, still naked with jizz on his chin, and drinks tea like that’s the normal thing to do after blowing someone. 

Louis might be becoming insatiable. 

Being close to Harry like this isn’t scary at all, not when Harry makes him feel so at ease, has the cutest O-face, and spends hours upon hours just kissing Louis, letting him be the one to initiate taking it further. Louis could live a long and happy life just kissing Harry, if he’s honest, but the shared orgasms are a very lovely bonus. 

Penetrative sex  _ is  _ scary though. 

There’s so much about penetrative sex that scares him. Not being open enough, not being clean enough, not being energetic enough to keep up with your partner or even being too energetic. What if it hurts? What if he’s too tight or not tight enough? What if he’s the most boring sexual partner Harry’s ever had?

So a few nights later when Harry is half naked underneath him, cock free and big in Louis’s hand as he jerks him slowly, he thinks about how it’ll feel when it splits him open and he just stops. He stops moving, hand still on Harry’s dick and squeaks awkwardly, panic setting in. 

Harry blinks at him, eyes suddenly wide with worry and confusion. “Baby?”

And then Louis has to open his big fat mouth and ruin the moment entirely. 

“Harry,” he croaks, voice wrecked already. “I… I haven’t had penetrative sex in a very long time.”

Harry nods at him. “Okay, we’ll go slow. We don’t have to do it at all if you don’t want to”

“No, but like…” Louis shifts in his lap, uncomfortable. “It’s been a fucking long time.”

“Okay,” Harry says again, like Louis just told him he had a ham and cheese sandwich for lunch, like he didn’t have a hand wrapped around his cock half a minute ago. “So we’ll go slow, yeah?”

“ _ Harry _ ,” Louis wails. He pins Harry’s arms above his head and stares down at him, fringe falling in his face. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Why would it bother me?” Harry asks. He makes no move to shift Louis off him. Louis is one hundred percent in control right now and that’s a weird feeling in the bedroom. He feels like he’s freaking out a little bit. And with the way Harry’s frowning at him, he can tell too. “Louis, sweetheart. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. We don’t have to do anything if you’re not ready.”

“You’re not bothered,” Louis says dryly. “At all? Even though you’ve had a lot of sex?”

“Honey…” Now Harry does break out of Louis’s hold, sitting up and taking Louis’s face in his big hands. “I… what on  _ earth  _ are you talking about?”

“You’ve has so much sex and I’ve had like no sex,” Louis says, looking down so Harry doesn’t keep staring at him. “And I’ve not had sex for well over two years and it…”

“Wha… Where is this coming from?” Harry asks. 

Louis huffs. “When we went out for dinner that time with all the guys and we had to say our body count and yours was, like…”

“Normal for someone who explored their sexuality at uni before getting into a serious relationship for two years?” Harry cuts him off. He doesn’t sound hurt, but he doesn’t sound particularly happy either. “Louis, the amount of people I’ve shagged has nothing to do with anything right now.”

Louis feels like his face is on fire. “I…” He bites his lip. “Look, I know you know that my ex-boyfriend has left me with some issues that you definitely didn't sign up for, so I’m sorry. I like you so much…”

“I like you so much too…” Harry cuts in, and Louis cuts him off with a squeeze to his knee. 

“But sex is…  _ god _ , I want to have sex with you so bad but I don’t… I don’t feel like I’m gonna be very good at it.” He mumbles the last past, trailing off so he can barely hear his own words towards the end. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Harry blinks at him. “You think… you won’t be any good?”

Louis shrugs. He doesn’t think he’s ever been redder in his  _ life.  _

_ “Louis.” _ Harry knocks their foreheads together. “Baby, look at me.” Louis does. “Listen to me. The way I feel about you and the way I’m pretty sure you feel about me…” He pecks Louis on the mouth softly, just once. “Even if you just lie back and think of England it won’t be bad. Hell, even if all we do for the rest of the night is snog it won’t be bad.”

It’s meant to be a joke, Louis knows this, but panic runs through him as he realises that that’s pretty much all his sex with Henry was, especially towards the end. Nothing fancy, nothing kinky, just… lying back and thinking of England, of the errands he needs to run, sometimes even going over lines in his head while Henry went through the motions. That’s all he knows how to do. He doesn’t know how to have mind-blowing sex with someone.

He wants to have mind-blowing sex with Harry.

Louis places both his hands on Harry’s knees and squeezes. “He’s not… I didn’t… we never…” He doesn’t even know what he’s trying to say, for fuck’s sake. He settles for something he knows to be the truth. “It never feels like it felt with him when I’m with you.”

“Good,” Harry says firmly, then drags Louis into a filthy kiss. Once they separate, both gasping for air, Harry cups Louis’s face in his hands and stares at him intensely. “He’s nothing anymore, he’s irrelevant.” Another kiss. “But you’re  _ everything _ .”

“ _ Harry. _ ” Louis suddenly feels like his brain doesn’t know any other words as Harry leans down and kisses him, so gentle, so careful. It’s overwhelming but in a good way. He’s also not a mind-reader, but it doesn’t take one to work out that Harry cares about him.

“If I make you uncomfortable, even for a second, you tell me and we stop,” Harry says firmly, resting their foreheads together. Louis nods and squeezes the back of his neck, an affirmation, before they’re snogging again, open-mouthed and messy and so,  _ so _ good.

Louis knows he’s hard - harder than he’s been in years, probably - but he doesn’t know what to do. It’s been two years and he suddenly feels like he’s completely forgotten what to do, so he just kisses Harry and hopes he twigs that Louis needs him to make the move before they go further. 

Luckily, Harry seems very in tune with what Louis wants and makes the move to rest his hands just above the waistband of Louis’s boxers, his pinkies pressing in just enough for Louis to get the idea. 

“You can,” he mumbles against Harry’s lips. “Take them off me, if you want.”

“I want,” Harry says, pulling back ever so slightly. “But do you want to?”

“Yeah.” Louis nods and tilts back to kiss Harry again. He feels infinitely better when they’re kissing. “Take them off.”

Harry presses a quick, firm kiss to his lips and then pulls back, then ever so slowly starts to coax the boxers down his legs. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” Harry says as he gently knocks Louis’s legs apart to get the boxers off, then he drops them to the floor. “Uh, hang on. Hand me that pillow.”

Louis frowns but hands Harry the pillow next to his head with shaky hands. Harry takes it and kisses Louis’s knee before carefully raising his hips enough to slide the pillow underneath him. 

“This okay?”

“Yeah,” Louis breathes out, tilting his head up so he can look at Harry as best he can. He feels hot all over and exposed in a weird way, because part of him wants to cover himself up and part of him wants Harry to fuck him until he cries, and he knows he can’t have it both ways. He lets Harry manoeuvre his legs back open, letting his bum be completely exposed, then shudders when Harry runs a single finger over his hole. 

“Fuck,” Harry says with wonder in his voice. “You’re gonna be so tight.”

For lack of anything else to say, Louis says, “Yeah, probably.” He wants to feel embarrassed, but Harry is not even a little bit condescending or even worried, he sounds  _ awed.  _

“Tell me if you need me to stop,” Harry says again, then Louis hears the  _ snick _ of the bottle of lube opening. There’s a quiet pause before Harry shuffles forwards and presses his cold fingertips to his hole again, his whole body shuddering. 

“Shit me, that’s cold.”

Harry pauses, not even pressing inside yet. “Too cold?”

Louis shakes his head. “It’s just… I’d forgotten it, that’s all. What it feels like to have someone else down there.”

“Um,” Harry says, then suddenly he’s crawling back up Louis, holding his slick fingers away from him so he doesn’t get any other bit of him sticky, the considerate bastard. “May I try something?”

Louis balks. “Try… what?”

Harry kisses him quickly and soundly before pulling back. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Suddenly, his tongue is lapping over Louis’s hole and Louis  _ shrieks,  _ his body tensing and a hand slapping over his mouth, but Harry holds him firm, one hand wrapped around his thigh to keep him steady while he flutters his tongue around the tight ring of muscle. It’s foreign and it’s intimidating, but Louis doesn’t want Harry to stop. He hasn’t felt pleasure like this in  _ years.  _

“Oh my god,” he moans, breathing hard and ragged as Harry works at his hole, licking him open with practised motions. “Holy fuck, holy fuck, oh my  _ god _ .”

“Yeah, baby, let me hear you,” Harry moans, then he runs one of his lube-coated fingers over his hole and eases the tip of it ever so slowly. “Tell me if it’s too much, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis breathes out, the word sounding more like a moan than anything. “Shit, don’t stop.”

It’s a slow and careful process, working up to one whole finger and then to two. Harry keeps his head between Louis’s legs the whole time, alternating between pressing soft kisses to his thighs, bum and stomach and rimming him while he works his fingers in and out. Louis isn’t so much talking as he is babbling, his moans loud and interspersed with cries of Harry’s name or the occasional swear. 

When Harry gets to three fingers he crooks them forward and feels to find Louis’s prostate, which knocks all the wind out of Louis’s wails and he lets out a harsh, broken moan as his whole body jolts with pleasure. 

“Good?” Harry asks in a tone that implies he knew  _ just  _ how good it was. All Louis can do is nod and whimper as he crooks his fingers again. “Good boy,  _ good boy _ . So proud of you, taking my fingers so well.”

By the time he’s up to four fingers, Louis feels like he’s losing his mind. “Harry,” he croaks, curling a hand around his cock and giving it a few sharp tugs to take the edge off. “Harry, please, I’m gonna come.”

“You can come if you want,” Harry starts, but Louis shakes his head. 

“Want you to fuck me,” he says, smiling as Harry beams at him, looking like the cat who got the cream. “Want you so much.” 

Now he has Louis’s permission, Harry makes quick work of locating a condom from his bedside drawer and settles back between Louis’s legs, giving his own dick a few strokes before he opens the packet. “You sure?” he says, just as he’s rolling the rubber down his length, which is such a Harry time to ask the question,  _ honestly _ . 

“So sure,” Louis promises him, spreading his legs wider, a silent encouragement of permission. Harry is liberally adding more lube to his dick and he smears some more on Louis’s hole for good measure, then leans down to give Louis a soft, reassuring kiss on the lips. 

“You ready?”

“Yeah.” Louis hopes his voice doesn’t wobble too much because he is nervous, but he trusts Harry more than he’s ever trusted anyone before. “I trust you.”

“Good,” Harry says, then moves inside Louis, just one careful inch. 

Holy  _ fuck.  _

“More,” Louis begs as Harry starts to slowly press in, clutching his face and letting him pepper kisses all over his own face to distract and reassure him from the initial sting. “God, Harry,  _ yes.” _

“You good, baby?” Harry props himself up with a hand each side of Louis’s head, looming over him with bright, shiny eyes. He’s beautiful, Louis can’t help but think, and because his brain to mouth filter isn’t currently working given the dick up his arse, he tells him that. 

“You’re beautiful.”

“I know, but are you good?” Harry chuckles, wincing as Louis clenches around him hotly. “Yeah, baby? Can I move?”

“Just a sec,” Louis mutters, taking a deep breath as he gets used to the feeling of Harry inside him. He feels  _ full  _ and a little bit overwhelmed so he just lets Harry fuck his tongue in and out of his mouth for a couple of minutes while he adjusts. 

Once he feels ready he nods, whimpering unabashedly as Harry pulls back and grins at him before thrusting in. 

His thighs start to tremble as Harry dicks into him deeper, his feet unable to get proper purchase on the mattress as he picks up speed. He fists one hand in Harry’s sweat damp hair and he uses the other to jerk himself off in time with Harry’s thrusts again. 

His orgasm has been building for what feels like forever, so when it finally hits him it’s almost a surprise. He feels himself tighten around Harry before his body lets go and he cries out in pure, unadulterated pleasure. “Oh  _ Harry _ , ohhhh.”

“Yes, darling, come for me,” Harry urges as Louis’s back arches off the bed, his head dropping back against the pillows as hot, sticky cum shoots up over his belly. “So beautiful, look at you.”

Louis is suddenly very aware of how tired he is but he tightens his legs around Harry’s back, not letting him pull out. “Stay in me, keep going,” he mumbles, tucking his face into Harry’s shoulder. It doesn’t take long for Harry to finish - a few more erratic thrusts and he’s biting on the meat of Louis’s shoulder, hips jerking as he spills inside the condom. 

“God, Louis,” Harry grunts as he comes down from his high, keeping Louis pressed close as he moves his sweaty hair out his face. “God, darling, that was incredible.”

“Yeah,” Louis agrees, still trying to catch his breath. He cuddles Harry into him, kissing him slowly and softly as they both come back to earth. Harry stays inside Louis for a bit until he goes soft, and once Louis is starting to squirm he pulls out and makes quick work of removing the condom, tying a knot in the top and chucking it in the vague direction of the bin. 

“Charming,” Louis tells him. Harry snorts and tucks himself under Louis’s arm, resting his head against his chest. 

“Charmed you into bed, didn't I?”

“Would we say charmed?” Louis says dryly. He winds a strand of Harry’s hair around his fingers. “I would say I charmed you.” He laughs bitterly. “Cos being a proper pussy about sex for weeks is charming, I suppose.”

“Baby.” Harry looks up at him sadly, linking their fingers together. They couldn’t be pressed any closer if they tried. “It’s not anything to be ashamed of, being apprehensive about sex. I’m so fucking flattered that you let me do that with you tonight.” He clears his throat awkwardly. “We’ve just had some of the most amazing sex and the fact that you’re suddenly so scathing after I made you come makes me worried.”

Louis sighs. “Without sounding like a total prick, was it good for you?”

“It was amazing,” Harry says again, sounding painfully earnest. He leans up and kisses him. “I loved having sex with you.”

“Yeah?” Louis says shyly. He hates how self-conscious he suddenly feels. 

“Yeah,” Harry promises, squeezing his hand. “Talk to me, baby, tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I’m not scared to have sex, like, it’s not that I’m scared of the act itself, clearly,” Louis says, gesturing between their naked, tangled bodies. “Well, maybe a bit scared of the act itself.” He shrugs. “It’s just like, it’s been so long and I’ve not been super adventurous or anything like that and I dunno. I just didn’t want to be bad in bed.” He flushes. “I don’t want you to be bored.”

“Lou,” Harry says in disbelief, shaking his head. “I couldn’t ever be bored with you. I’ve never been bored with you. I don’t think I have ever been bored with you even if all we’re doing is sitting in the same room on our phones.”

“Yeah, but…”

“But nothing.” Harry kisses him, long and slow. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do, yeah? We can try sex however you want or even if you didn’t like the penetration we don’t have to do it again.”

Louis snorts. “Penetration.” He pats Harry’s cheek. “I think we both know I enjoyed the penetration, love.”

“Good,” Harry hums, kissing Louis again. “I loved it, Louis. I loved eating you out too. The noises you made were so…” He proceeds to do a chef’s kiss and Louis slaps him on the chest, his face positively on fire. 

“Please don’t mention my sex noises or use the words ‘eating out’ ever again.”

Harry giggles and proceeds to kiss Louis breathless, and even though he’s still mortified that Harry even dared to mention his sex noises, he’s just glad to get that conversation out of the way. 

It’s mad to feel that that felt like such a hurdle just a few days ago and now, wrapped in Harry’s arms and sated from one of the best orgasms he thinks he’s ever had, he feels silly for working himself up so much about it all. 

They have sex again the following night, but this time Louis starts out on his hands and knees while Harry holds him firmly by the hips, using his body to fuck in and out of him erratically. Bruises are left on his hips and there are teeth marks on Louis’s shoulder from Harry marking and biting at him. From this angle, Harry can hit his spot with most of his thrusts and Louis can’t do much else but take it, head bent and arms trembling as he tries to hold himself upright. 

Harry comes first this time, his thrusts getting more and more sloppy before he tenses and comes inside Louis with a grunt. 

Louis moans and then gasps as Harry pulls out and moves to quickly flip Louis onto his back, which makes him squawk. “ _ Harry _ .”

“Gonna suck you,” Harry rasps, making quick work of removing the condom and tossing it to the side. Then he shuffles back and leans down to take Louis’s smaller prick in his mouth, where he works him to a quick and messy orgasm. Louis comes with a gasp and then a shout of Harry’s name as he tucks a finger back inside his hole, spilling into Harry’s welcome mouth where he swallows his cum down, then takes Louis into his arms and kisses him until his lips are raw. 

Once they both get their breathing under control and Louis has stopped shaking, Harry runs them a bath and washes his hair, then rubs cold lotion into his bruises once they’ve dried off before they fall asleep in each other’s arms. 

Louis could get very used to living like this. 

This pull he has with Harry, this chemistry, is unlike anything he’s ever experienced before. He’s been in love before, he doesn’t doubt that, but he doesn’t remember them ever having this magnetism towards one another. Even from the start when things were fresh and exciting as they always are at the beginning of a new relationship, he was never obsessed with Henry, not compared to the way other couples seemed to be obsessed with one another. 

He spent a lot of his time in the beginning comparing his relationship to Liam and Zayn’s relationship in particular - his two best friends in the whole world who are  _ still _ so in love even now. His two best friends, who met when they were so young and both still unsure if they were gay, but had this undeniable pull towards one another that meant that regardless of how cruel sixth form kids could be, it felt like nothing could tear them apart. It makes Louis’s heart happy to see these two childhood sweethearts still love each other so much even after all these years. They’re best friends first, clearly, but the love they have for each other runs so deep that Louis can’t imagine a world where they’re not together. It wouldn’t be right.

Even now, it’s the way that Zayn will just smile when Liam’s talking or the way Liam brushes Zayn’s hair from his face while he’s doing something that makes Louis’s heart the happiest. It’s the way that Zayn hates early mornings, but won’t ever send Liam to work without a packed lunch, so he hauls himself out of bed to make sure he’s got one. It’s the way Liam won’t let Zayn work past a certain time even though they all know he’s a workaholic, making sure he sets a time for Zayn to finish his sewing so they can eat dinner and spend their evenings together.

The way they’re always touching when they’re all out together, not possessive or overbearing, but just touching to touch, whether that’s Liam’s hand on Zayn’s thigh or Zayn curled into Liam’s side.

Louis’s always wanted that, and for a good while he had it with Henry. Towards the end of the relationship, Henry’s touches became more possessive or there weren’t any at all, there was no in between. Louis didn’t even care if they weren’t touching half the time, because it didn’t seem important for Henry’s hand to rest on his leg, even though whenever he would watch Zayn and Liam do it it felt important.

Louis knows hindsight is a wonderful thing, but sometimes he does wonder how he never spotted the warning signs that he and his flop of an ex-boyfriend were doomed long before they actually ended.

And now he’s ended up with the world’s most tactile, cuddly boyfriend, and it’s almost like he’s making up for years of lost time.

Harry can’t stop touching Louis at the best of times. Whenever they’re in public they’re always holding hands or one of them has an arm draped around the other, or at the  _ very _ least they’re touching shoulders. If they’re on the Tube they’ll huddle close, and often one of them will slip a hand into the other’s back pocket or under the back of their shirt to keep them pressed together.  _ Saving space,  _ Louis calls it in his head, but even he knows he’s lying to himself. 

When they’re in bars they rarely sit opposite each other even when it’s just the two of them. Harry’s even more tactile when he’s had a drink and he’ll always take Louis’s hand or lock their legs together or, depending on how much he’s had, pull Louis into him completely and press kisses sporadically into his face and hair. And Louis isn’t drinking at the moment - never does during a show run if he can help it - but he finds himself encouraging them to go out more just so Harry can get this handsy, because he fucking loves it. 

When they’re at work they’re a little more reserved because Louis is a professional and takes his job very seriously.

Well, kind of.

If they get handsy in a different way in Louis’s dressing room a couple of times that’s for nobody else but them to know.

The way they act around one another could be seen as possessive, but Louis doesn’t feel like that. He loves touching Harry just as much as Harry seems to love touching him. He’s just not always as good at being the one to initiate it. If anything, it feels like Harry has picked up on this so makes the effort to initiate it first, to show Louis that it’s all okay and he wants to be touched too.

Sweet, lovely Harry, who makes Louis feel so safe and happy and comfortable in so many different ways that Louis truly,  _ truly  _ can’t imagine being in a relationship with anyone else ever again. Not when Harry puts in so much effort with the littlest things, like how Louis always gets cold when he sleeps so he buys an extra blanket for him to sleep under when he’s at Harry’s without being asked, or how he forgot his grandmother’s birthday and had a panic only for Harry to make sure that a bouquet of flowers would be special delivered to her nursing home the following day.

Harry, who cooks delicious meals just because he likes cooking and doesn’t let Louis just heat up a ready meal anymore because he can rustle up a better tasting, more nutritious version in barely any time at all. Harry, who made sure his flat was stocked with Louis’s favourite things before he’d even stayed over for the first time and now makes sure there’s cereal, Diet Coke, and even Louis’s favourite brand of hot sauce in the cupboards just on the off chance he’ll fancy them. 

Harry, who makes sure Louis knows he’s there first thing in the morning and last thing at night so he never has to worry about waking up or going to sleep alone. 

Louis didn’t think he’d ever call anyone completely and utterly perfect, but he literally can’t think of a different word to describe Harry most of the time. In fact, when Lottie asks him over the phone one day if “ _ there’s anything wrong with this bloke, Christ, Lou, cos you’re talking about him like his shit doesn’t stink _ ,” Louis can only come to the conclusion that yes, sometimes Harry does do bad farts in his sleep and also sometimes he leaves the cap off the toothpaste, but Louis squeezes the tube from the middle anyway so they kind of balance each other out in that regard anyway.

So yes, Harry is probably mostly perfect and if it keeps going as well as it is Louis is probably going to keep him forever, even if he has to put the cap back on the toothpaste every day for the rest of his life.

Four weeks, four proper date nights and way more than four sleepovers is when Louis asks Harry to officially be his boyfriend. 

To be honest, he’s been referring to Harry as his boyfriend to his sisters and his friends for the best part of a month. He also thinks that Harry probably doesn’t need a grand ask because he heard him refer to Louis as his boyfriend on the phone to his mum the other day, which made him near enough squeal out loud with excitement. But he wants to do it anyway, because Harry deserves that and he’s so excited about where this relationship is going and he wants to call him his boyfriend to his face. 

So he asks him one night when they’re both sleepy and soft. Louis has been sat on Harry’s dick for the best part of ten minutes, riding him ever so slowly and pausing every few minutes so he can lean down and press messy kisses onto Harry’s mouth. Harry’s looking up at him like he’s treasure, hands on Louis’s thighs to keep him balanced, fingers pressing hard enough to leave bruises that only they know are there. It’s all very hot and romantic at the same time. 

“I think this is going very well,” Louis murmurs, leaning back so he can change the angle ever so slightly. Harry tightens his grip and raises a sweaty eyebrow. 

“The sex?” he asks, then punctuates his question with a particularly delicious thrust that turns Louis’s answering laugh into a moan. 

“The sex, yes,” he mumbles, then leans forward so he can kiss Harry on the mouth again. He clenches around him hotly. “But also this relationship.”

“Yes,” Harry grunts, then starts fucking into Louis harder, faster, hands moving to his arse so he can help Louis bounce a bit more steadily from this position. “Big fan of being in a relationship with you.”

Louis laughs breathily, and for the new few minutes they don’t speak as Harry fucks them both to a messy orgasm. Louis finishes first, spilling between their bodies onto Harry’s stomach and chest, and Harry finishes just a few moments later. Once he’s done, he moves Louis off his prick like he weighs nothing and rolls him to the side, then makes quick work of discarding the condom and pulling Louis in for a cuddle. 

“High five for a great orgasm each?” he says with too much enthusiasm, reaching for Louis’s hand and slapping it with his own. Louis snatches it back and slaps him lightly on the cheek. 

“I hate you.”

Harry grins and bites him on the shoulder. “It was good though, you can’t deny it.”

“I didn’t deny you were good at sex,” Louis says. He pokes Harry’s dimple. “But you’re the worst. I can't believe I nearly called you my boyfriend just now.”

Harry rolls over onto his side and grins at him, like a kid on Christmas morning. “Boyfriend?”

Louis beams back at him. “Yeah. I figured I might start calling you my boyfriend from now on, alright?”

Harry snorts. “Good, because I’ve been calling you my boyfriend to my mum for like three weeks.”

Louis grins. “Same, to my sisters and stuff.” He slides his hand up, resting it on Harry’s chest. “Just making sure we’re on the same page.”

“I’d say so,” Harry says, waggling his eyebrows. “What solidified it more, the fact that we’ve just shagged or the fact that you have a toothbrush in my bathroom and your cereal in the cupboard?”

“Don’t be so bloody cheeky, boyfriend,” Louis says, poking him in the belly button, which then results in a tickle fight that has Louis unable to breathe; he's laughing so hard. 

It’s worth it. He has a  _ boyfriend  _ now. Fucking hell, saying it out loud like that makes him sound like a fourteen year old who’s never been kissed, but Louis doesn’t care. So he says it out loud again when they’ve calmed down and Harry squeaks a very manly squeak that has them both dissolving into giggles again. 

And the novelty of calling each other boyfriend doesn’t wear off for a good couple of weeks.

“Pass me the milk, will you,  _ boyfriend, _ ” Louis will purr at breakfast. 

“Can I borrow your phone charger, my darling boyfriend?” Harry will simper when they’re curled up on the sofa watching TV.

“Do you want to get a sharing platter for lunch, boyfriend?” Louis asks one day when they’re having a breakfast double date in the cafe down the road from the theatre. Harry nods and kisses him on the cheek. 

“Yes, boyfriend, that sounds good.”

“Do you want to kill me first or shall I kill you first,  _ husband _ ?” Zayn drawls to Liam, tone flat as anything, who nods in agreement and kisses Zayn on the cheek too. 

“Yes, my dear spouse, kill me please, because I can’t cope with this absolute foulness any longer.”

“Oi,” Louis says sharply. “Don’t be jealous now because my relationship is new and fresh.”

“It’s not jealousy, it’s disgust,” Zayn assures them, rolling his eyes. “Honestly, we fucking get it. You’re boyfriends now even though you’ve been boyfriends for months, idiots.”

“Yes, but Zayn,” Louis tuts, because Zayn is an idiot, “I have a boyfriend.” He pinches Harry’s cheek. “See?”

“Can we leave?” Liam says, pretending to put on his jacket. “This is too much for me on a Monday morning, I’m off.”

“Yeah, me too,” Zayn says, but just at that moment the waitress appears with their teas and coffees. “Ah, saved by the caffeine.”

Harry sits through the whole exchange politely and silently - it must be weird, Louis thinks, to come into a relationship like this where his best friends are essentially his family at this point. He wonders if it feels a bit like meeting the parents, even though they’ve technically also been friends for ages.

“Babe, could you pass the milk?” he asks, putting a gentle hand on Harry’s thigh. He turns back to Liam and Zayn. “Harry was telling me earlier that you two have booked a holiday in November and you told him before me. What’s that about?”

“We have indeed,” Liam says happily, eyes twinkling. “I’m literally so excited. We’re going to New York.”

“Six days of Broadway shows, fancy cocktails and sex,” Zayn titters, linking his arm through Liam’s. “Happy fucking finishing this run to us.”

“You don’t need to brag,” Louis tuts. “We can do that in England, just in the West End.”

“Yeah, but we’ve seen nearly every West End show at this point,” Liam points out. “Even Hamilton.”

“Semantics,” Louis drawls. “I care more about the cocktails and the sex, to be honest.”

“I just wanna see  _ Mean Girls: The Musical _ ,” Zayn says wistfully, ignoring Louis. “And the Rockettes. I just want to be a proper tourist.”

“You should go to The Comedy Cellar,” Harry pipes up. “It’s one of the best places I went while I was there. It’s in Manhattan.” He sips his iced coffee. “Oh, and I reckon you’d love the Neue Gallarie, Zayn. It has loads of cool contemporary European art from last century.”

“That does sound sick,” Zayn says, looking impressed. He elbows a groaning Liam. “Oh, come on, darling, did you really think I wouldn’t be dragging you around any museums?” He shakes his head and tuts. “He hates art,” he tells Harry. “He’s so uncultured.”

“I hate art,” Louis chips in. 

“Uncultured idiots.” Zayn rolls his eyes.

Harry looks a bit scandalised. “Louis, you’re an actor,” he says dumbly. “How can you hate art?”

“What does me being an actor have to do with anything?”

Harry fish-mouths at him. “You’re a creative. You create art in your own way and should appreciate the other art people bring to the world.” He scowls around his straw. “Plus there’s a fucking Klimt exhibit there right now. Wouldn’t you die to see that in real life?”

“What’s a Klimt?” asks Liam. Zayn kicks him under the table. 

“I want a divorce,” he says snidely. “And I’m taking Harry to New York instead, Louis, hope you don’t mind.”

Harry beams.

“What do you mean, if Louis doesn’t mind? What about me?” Liam says, outraged.

“Hush now, babe,” Zayn coos, patting his cheek patronisingly. “You can come to New York once you’ve taken the time to google Gustav Klimt, okay?”

Conversation is easy after that, and even though Louis is the butt of pretty much every single joke for the rest of the meal, he doesn’t mind if it means his best friends and boyfriend are bonding. It’s nice that Harry and Zayn have found some uniquely common ground and Louis had even received a text from him as he was in hair & make-up, telling him he thinks Harry’s a keeper.

It makes Louis grin for the rest of the time it takes to get his hair quiffed.

When they get back to Harry’s flat later that night, Louis can tell Harry is itching to ask him something. He’s been practically buzzing with excitement about something all day, but because Louis’s been performing they’ve not had the chance for a proper conversation until now.

“You alright, my love?” he asks, wrapping his arms around Harry in the hallway.

“Shall we go on holiday?” Harry asks shyly. He bites his lip. “That is, if you want to spend your one week break shacked up with some sorry sod you work with.”

“Hey! That’s a sorry sod I lo- I love working with.” Louis balks, hoping Harry doesn’t notice the slip up. “Yeah, let’s go on holiday, darling. Somewhere quiet and relaxing, nowhere like Spain, if that's alright.”

“What’s wrong with Spain?” Harry says indignantly. “I spent loads of good childhood holidays in Spain.” 

“Yeah, same, but I also spent a couple of lads holidays over there and truth be told, they aren’t really what I’ve got in mind.”

“What do you wanna do then?” Harry asks, pulling out his phone and tapping open Safari. 

“Somewhere relaxing,” Louis says again. “Somewhere maybe nice and secluded, so the only person’s face I have to see for the whole week is yours.”

Harry grins at him. “Yeah? This sorry sod right here?”

“Come here,” Louis sighs, clambering into his lap and kissing him square on the mouth. “Yes, idiot.  _ You _ .”

“I know,” Harry says, sounding pleased as he steals another kiss. “I just like hearing it.”

Louis shakes his head. “Loser.”

“Be nice to me or I won’t book us anywhere,” Harry says, tapping him on the nose. 

“Oh,  _ you’re  _ in charge of booking it, are you?”

“Yes,” Harry says firmly, wriggling under Louis’s bum until he reluctantly climbs off. “Sorry babe, my arse is going numb. Plus I want you to bugger off so I can book somewhere.”

“What? Already?” Louis asks incredulously. “We only made the decision five minutes ago.”

“So?” Harry moves over to the dining table where his laptop is. “I made the decision about you months ago.”

“You’re an awful sappy prick,” Louis drawls, but secretly he’s pleased as punch. 

“I am,” Harry nods without looking up from the screen. “Now scram. Go to bed and I’ll see you there in a bit.”

It’s confirmed - Louis is falling in love with a complete and utter idiot. And as he lies there, snuggled into sheets that smell like Harry, he finds himself resting easy because it feels like Harry is falling in love with him too. 

*

Life as an actor in a theatre show is weird, Louis has always thought. Your schedule is so fucking weird that you barely ever have time to see friends and family, you don’t get evenings or weekends free for months at a time, often over the times of the year when you want them the most, and you push your body to the brink of exhaustion on a weekly basis because you literally only get one day off, and the other six you spend singing and dancing in front of such big crowds that you have to give it your all whether you want to or not. 

And yet Louis doesn’t want to do anything else for the rest of his life. 

Reviews for the show have started pouring in: it’s a total hit with the critics. Louis’s performance as Elder Price is showered with praise from all sides, everything from ‘perfect with his comedic timings’ to ‘a unique voice that deserves more recognition’ and apparently he and Niall have ‘unteachable stage chemistry with spotless harmonies’ which is all incredibly flattering. Leigh-Anne’s singing ability also gets incredible praise, her chemistry with Niall also getting credit by nearly every reviewer, but it’s not just the cast they deem spot-on. It’s Jesy’s choreography, James’s direction, and the musical arrangements by Nick and the band. 

It’s a rip-roaring success across the board and rumours of it returning next year for another run are rife amongst the cast and crew. If he’s being honest, Louis would adore to keep on with this, keep playing Elder Price year upon year until they sack him for being too old.

Louis would be lying if he said it wasn’t his favourite show he’s ever done.

They’re getting into a better routine now, all the cast and crew, and they actually start seeing each other more outside of work. None of the cast are really into drinking at the moment, just because they don’t want to risk anything with their voices or worse, being hungover while performing, but they become accustomed to brunch dates, early morning cinema screenings, and even picnics in the park on Mondays they have off.

Another week of chaos comes to a close on Sunday; and after the show finishes, the whole cast and crew head over to Jesy’s house for a birthday party. 

It’s perhaps not the best night for a party because it’s stupidly late by the time they finish the show and it’ll be nearing midnight by the time they arrive anyway, but  _ fuck it _ , Louis thinks. It’ll be nice to see everyone in a social, not super stressed capacity and anyway, they’re going back to Louis’s after this and can sleep the day away tomorrow if they need to. 

Harry changes in Louis’s dressing room with him - Louis into his favourite Burberry shirt and jeans and Harry into a ridiculously sheer shirt and high-heeled gold boots - before they hop into a taxi with Niall over to her house. She has an actual house with an actual garden, which blows Louis’s mind because that’s an absolute luxury in London. Turns out her boyfriend is a former Love Islander and is absolutely fucking minted, which explains a lot. 

“Is this their house?” Niall says incredulously as the cab pulls up outside. “Fucking hell, I’m gonna start shagging a Love Islander if this is the kind of shit that comes with ‘em.”

“Such a romantic,” Louis drawls as he pays the driver. 

They ring the doorbell and Perrie answers, looking fabulously made up and wearing a long yellow dress with sequins on the bust. 

“Hi,” she screeches happily, taking Harry’s free hand and tugging him inside. “So glad you could make it!”

“Um, is this  _ your _ party now?” Louis quips, which earns him a smack on the chest. “Hey! Nice to see you too, Pez.”

“Love the boots,” Perrie squeals as she pulls Harry in for a hug. “Honestly, they’re dreamy.” She shakes her head. “You’re being wasted, you are, being forced to wear all black at work.”

“Tell me about it,” Louis chimes in, winding an arm around Harry’s middle. “If it were down to me he wouldn’t be wearing black all the time.” Perrie raises an eyebrow. “He’d be wearing nothing all the time,” he says gleefully in a stage whisper. 

Perrie slaps him on the chest. “Louis!”

Harry tuts but his cheeks are flushed a pretty pink and his smile is a pleased one. “I don’t think Perrie needs to know that, Lou.”

“Everyone needs to know that, darling,” Louis says sardonically. “You’re wasted in clothes, in my humble opinion.”

“Well, next time keep your opinions to yourself,” Perrie mutters, but it’s fond. “Now what can I get you boys to drink?”

It’s nice to be out and drinking, even if it is a bit weird to be having a party like this in the wee small hours of a Sunday night into a Monday morning. Louis even allows himself one cold beer - and boy, is it  _ delicious  _ \- and drinks it in the kitchen with Niall, clinking red plastic cups with him and roasting themselves. 

“To the stars of the show!” Niall bellows. 

“To the current West End darlings,” Louis yells, and their plastic cups bang together. “Selling out shows left, right and fucking centre.”

“What about me, you bastards?” Leigh-Anne shrills from the doorway, appearing out of nowhere and putting her hands on her hips. Niall opens his arms for her and she teeters over in her heels, toppling into them and dragging in with her. “God, I love you two fuckers. Even if you do forget I’m the star.”

“Could never forget you’re the bloody star, babe,” Louis hums, bouncing up on his tiptoes to press a kiss onto her cheek. “You’re the critics’  _ favourite _ , after all.”

“And you’ll do well to remember it,” she giggles. “Cheers, lads!”

Music blares and drinks flow, and Louis definitely shouldn’t have the shot that Jade offers him, but he’s feeling nice and loose and relaxed for the first time in ages. Even without copious amounts of alcohol in him he’s having a good time, so he lets himself enjoy the vodka, wincing as it goes down. 

He also knows he shouldn’t have a cigarette, but he joins a couple of the lads for one outside. Harry isn’t there to chastise him - he’s over by the bonfire with the other techies - so he sneaks one of Zayn’s and shrugs his shoulders when Liam gives him a judgmental look. 

“It’s my day off,” he grunts as he lights it, voice muffled around the filter. “And you can have a day off too,  _ daddy.” _

“That’s actually vile,” Liam tells him, flicking cigarette ash at him. “Please never call me that again.” 

“Daddy,” Louis repeats, licking his lips in an exaggerated way that’s not even a little bit sexy. “Have I been naughty, Daddy?”

“You’ve has one fucking beer, pack it in,” Liam says with a scowl. Louis howls a laugh and leans forward to grope at Liam’s chest, which makes Liam shriek. “Pack it in, you creep.”

“Do I make you horny?” Louis tries an awful impression of Austin Powers. “Randy?”

“Careful, Tommo, your little boyfriend is over there,” a voice behind them suddenly sneers. Louis turns to see Peter appear through the patio doors, cigarette already halfway to his lips. “He might think you’ve found someone better if you’re not careful.”

Liam rolls his eyes, a mindful hand on Louis’s shoulder. They’ve been around each other enough times when they’ve been drinking for Liam to know when Louis’s about to kick off. 

“That’s enough, Pete, mate,” he says, gesturing to him to move by them. “You know that’s not how it is.”

“You’re right, I do,” Peter says, his voice dripping with something artificial and overdone, like he really couldn’t give a shit. “Zayn’s much prettier than Tommo anyway.”

“Piss off,” Louis and Liam say in sync, and Peter roars an ugly laugh. 

“Tiny kitten with his tiny claws, stood behind his…  _ daddy _ .” God, Louis hates him. “Have a nice evening, gay boys.”

They watch Peter walk away towards the rest of the techie lads and Louis doesn’t realise he’s glaring until Liam rests a hand on the small of his back. 

“He’s gone now, Lou, you’re fine.”

“God, I hate him,” Louis seethes. He throws his fag end to the ground and toes it out. “Thinly veiled homophobia aside, he’s just an overall cunt, ain't he?” 

“Yep,” Liam says, popping the P sound. “Agreed; but hey, it is what it is. Only a few more months and we never have to see him again.”

“Love the optimism as I might, it’s an issue now,” Louis says. His fingers are already itching for another cigarette, one that he really shouldn’t allow himself. “He can be such a prick to Haz, I can’t stand it.”

“Well, he shouldn’t be tonight, not in front of all these people having a good time,” Liam says sagely. “Come on, let’s go get another drink. Then I’ll let you smoke half my next cig cos I know…” He holds up his hands. “I know I’m not your boyfriend or your father, but I am your best friend and I’m willing to compromise on the vices for you.”

Louis beams at him and slings an arm around his neck. “You always were my best friend for a reason.” 

They head back inside to the kitchen to top up their cups and end up getting roped into watered down beer pong with Zayn and Jade. They lose spectacularly badly and Zayn has to down all their drinks, and while Perrie lines up the next round Louis follows the slightly tipsy couple outside for that promised cigarette. 

His bad mood has mostly dissipated by the time he’s finishing up his cigarette. He’s just about to head back inside and carry on the game when he hears a roar of laughter accompanied by a chant of his boyfriend’s name, then several shouts for Peter to cut something out. 

He takes a couple of steps down the patio so he can see the group of lads that Harry’s with down the garden, illuminated by the light of the bonfire. Harry’s one of the tallest of the bunch so he picks him out easily - his head is bowed and his arms are crossed in front of him, and he retreats a step backwards every time Peter moves forward and jabs at him. 

Louis’s blood begins to boil. 

_ Nobody  _ fucking touches Harry. 

And then, suddenly...

“Honestly, I’d fucking fire him tomorrow if it were down to me. Useless piece of shit, this one is.”

And that’s when Louis sees red.

He slams his cup down on the table, not paying any mind to the fact that it tips over and goes everywhere, and storms down the patio and towards Harry and Peter, shoving Zayn off when he tries to hold him back.

“ _ Louis. _ ” Niall appears from nowhere, stepping in front of him with his hands up. “Louis, don’t do this…”

“You wanna say that any fucking louder, Peter?” Louis snarls, side-stepping Niall and wedging himself between the taller man and Harry, shoving him backwards. “You know, I really didn’t think you could be any more of a cunt, but here we are.”

Peter catches himself before he topples backwards and shoves Louis back so he stumbles towards Harry, but luckily it seems Louis and Harry both were expecting it so they’re both able to keep upright. “I’ll say it fucking louder if you want me to,” he sneers, then cups both hands over his mouth and starts shouting. “Harry Styles is the worst technician the West End has ever seen!”

“Fuck you,” hisses Louis, hands already curling tightly into fists. If Harry didn’t have a finger curled in the belt loop at the back of his jeans, he would have launched himself at Peter by now. “Who the fuck do you…”

“Trying to get Harry Styles to do a good job at work is like using a chocolate teapot,” Peter continues, eyes glinting under the artificial patio lighting. Louis growls. “Absolutely no fucking point to it, useless, irelevant…” 

“Hey man, just pack it in now, yeah?” Liam’s voice says from somewhere behind Louis. “You’re not funny, you’re not impressing anyone…”

“It’s true though, innit?” Peter takes a step back and points straight at Louis. “The only reason this clown is even defending him is because they’re shagging and we all know it.” He laughs and then spits at the floor. “It’s  _ pathetic _ , come on.”

“ _ You’re _ pathetic,” Louis hisses. “Whether Harry and I are shagging has nothing to do with the fact that you’re a fucking bully, a nasty piece of work, and I wouldn’t want to work with you ever again even if you were the best Stage Manager in London.” He looks Peter up and down. “Which, by the way, you’re absolutely fucking not. And you know who they’ll ask come the end of this run whether they’d work with you again?” He bristles. “It’ll be me and Niall, because we’re the stars and the names that bring people in.” He takes a step back and winds an arm around Harry’s waist protectively, and even though Harry goes stiff he doesn’t let go. “We’re the ones that recommend you guys, we essentially write your references. And if you think I’m going to have one nice word to say about you once this comes to an end?” He looks Peter up and down. “Fuck you. Don’t come near me or Harry ever again, do you hear me?”

There’s silence for a second, the only sounds everyone’s laboured breathing and the faint noise of the music coming from the house, and then suddenly Peter lets out an ugly roar of laughter. “Big words for such a small man,” he tuts, then picks his drink up from the table and swigs it down, wiping his ugly wet mouth on the sleeve of his hoodie. “Fucking diva and his fucking loony boyfriend. It’s only the West End, sweetheart, it’s hardly fucking Hollywood.”

“I swear to fucking god…” Louis starts to growl, but a firm, familiar hand on his chest stops him.

“Let’s just go,” Harry all but whimpers. He’s still rigid in Louis’s hold. “Please, Lou, I…”

“Yeah, fuck off out of here,” Peter drawls, pulling a cigarette out from his back pocket and lighting it. “Nobody wants him here and we certainly don’t need your little diva antics ruining the party for the rest of us, do we?”

“You couldn’t pay me to stay at this party, you piece of shit,” Louis snaps, threading his fingers through Harry’s and thumbing over his knuckles ever so lightly. “Have a nice life, prick.”

“Asshole,” Peter fires back. Louis goes to clap back, but before he can Harry tugs him back towards the patio doors, Liam, Zayn and Niall trailing behind them.

“Jesus, Louis, what the fuck…”

“Sorry, Jess, I’m so sorry.” Louis wipes his mouth on his sleeve. He’s shaking like a leaf. “Fuck him.  _ Fuck  _ him.”

“What the hell happened?” Jesy shrills, grabbing Louis by the hand and tugging him inside. “Tell me now.”

“Peter happened,” Niall says hotly. “Fucking prick.”

“Louis?” Jesy asks, hands on her hips. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Louis says honestly, his voice shaking. “I’m not okay. I’m so angry.”

“Jesus, Harry, are you alright?” Leigh-Anne says from behind him. “I saw that out there and that was bullshit, that was. I’m gonna kick off if…”

“Can we go?” Harry ignores her to whimper in Louis’s ear, sliding his sweaty hand into his. “Sorry, I just…”

“Okay.” Louis doesn’t need to hear anymore - if Harry wants to leave then they’re leaving. “Guys, we’re just gonna go. It’s not worth staying now if he’s gonna be a cunt.”

“Nah, fuck that.” Jesy strides towards the door. “If he’s the one being the prick I’m kicking him out.”

“Don’t,” Harry rushes out, shaking his head frantically. Jesy freezes in her tracks and frowns. “Don’t, please. I don’t want it to be a scene.”

“Louis already made it a scene,” Liam mutters. Louis stamps on his toe. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Harry says desperately. “Sorry, I just… sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry, idiot.” Jesy teeters over to him in her high heels and pulls him out of Louis’s arms and into hers. “I’m gonna rip him a new one, I swear to god.”

“Don’t do that,” Harry pleads, voice cracking. Louis panics for a second that he’s about to cry and reaches for him back. “Sorry. I just… I don’t want any trouble.” He takes Louis’s hand and tilts his head towards the door. “Let’s go, yeah?”

“I’ll call us a couple of cabs,” Zayn mutters, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. And with a final hug from Jesy where she promises Harry for the tenth time that he has nothing to be sorry for, they traipse out of there. 

When they get outside, Louis lets out a noise that’s somewhere between a scream and a snarl, something he didn’t want the rest of the guys inside to see. He hasn’t been this angry in a long fucking time and he’s handling it badly, he knows, and it’s not fair on Harry to be angry over supportive and cuddly, but he can’t help it. He’s so  _ angry.  _

“I fucking hate him,” he spits. He’s trembling, and when Harry pulls him into another hug he goes easily. “I hate him, stupid prick, absolute piece of fucking scum,  _ arsehole… _ ”

“Louis,” Harry cuts in, cupping Louis’s bright red face in his hands. “Louis, it’s okay.”

“It’s not fucking okay,” Louis yells. “He’s an absolute bastard, a total cunt, a piece of shit. I wouldn’t piss on him if he was on fire.”

“Louis.” Harry puts his hands on Louis’s shoulders and shakes him, firm but gentle. “Stop shouting.”

Louis is so angry he feels like he can’t breathe properly. “I’m gonna kick his fucking ass.”

“No, you’re not,” Liam says from behind him. “Because what would that achieve, Lou, really?”

He’s about to argue when Harry steps into his space and pulls him into a hug so tight he can’t talk for a second, and he finds himself sagging against his boyfriend, unsure of what to do or say anymore. 

“Don’t kick his ass,” Harry says gently, tucking his face into Louis’s neck. His voice sounds so small that it hurts Louis’s heart. This isn’t his cool and confident Harry at all - the man in his arms is shy and clearly scared, Louis can tell by the way he’s trembling, and he doesn’t know what to do. 

“Sorry, baby, I don’t mean to shout,” he mumbles. “I’m just so angry. I literally can’t believe tonight happened.”

“Me neither,” Harry all but whimpers, clutching at Louis desperately. “God, I…”

“Guys, the cab’s here,” Zayn interrupts gently. “You go on home first and we’ll get in the next one.”

Louis opens the door for Harry first and climbs in after him. He half expects Harry to lean into him for a cuddle the whole journey but he doesn’t. He holds Louis’s hand loosely and stares out the window the whole ride home, and Louis goes from feeling angry and frustrated to helpless and sad in only a few minutes. 

Harry looks so small and so sad and it hurts Louis’s heart. His shoulders are slumped and his hand is still trembling, and Louis can see in the window reflection how upset he looks. His usually smiley mouth is turned down into a tight frown, his eyes are wet and shiny with blinked back tears and he looks, if Louis is being honest, a shell of the happy, vibrant man that he came to the party with. 

They get back to Louis’s flat after a twenty minute or so drive. Louis pays the fare and leads Harry upstairs wordlessly. When they get inside, Louis turns to lock the door behind them only to turn around to an empty space. Then he hears the bathroom door click shut and the shower turn on, so he leaves him be for a bit. Clearly he wants to be alone. 

He does what he always does in these situations and boils the kettle, making them both decaffeinated teas that he carries into the bedroom. The shower is still running so he changes into fresh boxers and one of Harry’s tops, plugs his phone in and climbs into bed, and waits for Harry to come to him. 

Harry appears shortly after, naked and with his hair still damp. He flicks off the main light and slides into bed beside Louis, pulling the duvet up to his shoulders and tucking himself into Louis’s side. 

“Not tonight,” he says weakly. “Later, maybe tomorrow, but no more tonight.”

“Okay.” Louis doesn’t need telling twice. He kisses Harry’s forehead and brushes his hair out his eyes. “Do you wanna talk about something else? Or sleep?”

“Talk to me about something else,” Harry begs, threading his fingers into Louis’s and curling closer, his face tucked in towards Louis’s belly. “Literally anything else.”

Louis strokes through his boyfriend’s hair and babbles for a bit about how excited he is for their week off in August. He talks about all the day trips they’ll take and all the ice cream they’ll eat and all the sex they’ll have and after a while Harry’s breathing slows down and he smiles a gentle smile, which Louis counts as a win even though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

They settle down to sleep with Louis spooning Harry, a loose arm draped across his waist protectively. He sleeps through until morning because his body is exhausted, but it’s not a super deep sleep by any means. He wakes up to an empty bed and from a quick feel of the cool sheets he’s been alone for quite some time, which makes him frown.

He moves out of bed quickly and finds Harry in the kitchen. There are muffins baking in the oven and a batch cooling on the side already, with Harry at the sink doing the washing up. 

“Morning, love,” Louis greets, walking over and wrapping his arms around Harry’s middle. He presses a kiss into Harry’s shoulder. “You okay, sunshine?”

“I’m okay,” Harry says, leaning forward to peck Louis on the forehead, keeping his hands out the way so he doesn’t get suds on him. He sounds a bit more like himself this morning, which Louis documents as a silent win. “Want a muffin?”

They spend the morning eating muffins and then they share a warm bath, Louis’s back to Harry’s chest as they soak in the warm water for a good hour. When they get out, Louis dresses and heads to Tesco to pick up some fresh bread and a rotisserie chicken for their lunch. They eat on the sofa and catch up on some Netflix and cuddle and it’s a lovely day off, for the most part, but that’s mostly because they’re ignoring the elephant in the room. 

In fact, they manage to go most of the day without talking about it until Louis can’t contain it anymore and blurts out, “We need to talk about last night,” halfway through an episode of  _ Orange is the New Black.  _

“Do we?” Harry mutters darkly, not meeting Louis’s eyes. Louis wonders then if Harry wouldn’t have brought him up himself at all, but he feels like they need to. 

“Yeah, we do,” he says gently. “We need to talk about reporting Peter to Steve or Ben or someone, because what happened back there was so unacceptable.”

“I’m not reporting it,” Harry says in a tone that implies he’s not going to get into an argument about this. “It didn’t happen at work so it’s not work’s problem, so I’m not reporting it.”

“Okay, but this is only going to get worse,” Louis points out. “And it’s probably going to be my fault that it is and I’m so fucking sorry, Haz babe, but I couldn’t let him talk to you like that. We were at a fucking party trying to all have a good time, the bastard.”

Harry shrugs weakly. “But how can I say anything without looking like a fucking snitch?”

Louis presses his lips together, thinking. “What if I write it?” he suggests. “Or I get Liam or Niall to?”

Harry shakes his head. He looks a mix between horrified and terrified. “No,” he says firmly. “No way. Absolutely  _ not _ .”

“Why not?”

“Because…” Harry looks a bit like he might cry, which was absolutely not Louis’s intention. God, this boy is so gentle and soft and  _ terrified,  _ if the shaking in his hands and his voice is anything to go by. “Because then I’ve snitched to you and you’ve snitched on my behalf. It’s not on.”

“And it’s not on that he spoke to you like that at all, let alone outside of work at a social gathering. It’s bang out of order, baby.”

“And it’s not on that you called him a cunt and shoved him,” Harry points out. 

It’s a fair point, Louis thinks, but it’s not enough to stop him. “You’re right, of course, but I don’t care about him, I care about you.”

“That’s not an argument, Lou…”

“Okay, well.” Louis doesn’t want to get annoyed at Harry when Harry’s absolutely in the wrong, but he can feel himself getting riled with Harry’s attitude here. He’s absolutely not going to let this slide. “I’m going to write an email to Ben explaining the situation. Not on your behalf and not even as your boyfriend, I’m putting in my own complaint about one of Ben’s direct members of staff because he acted like a piece of shit and forced me and my friends to leave a party that we shouldn’t have felt we had to leave, alright?”

Harry sighs and shakes his head. “No, not really,” he says slowly, then holds up his hand before Louis can argue back. “I know you’re going to do it anyway, because… well, I can just tell.”

“Harry,” Louis says, going for gentle but it definitely comes out exasperated. “Don’t say it like that, babe. I’m doing this because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Yeah, alright.” Harry slumps, clearly defeated, if the way his whole body seems to sink into the sofa is anything to go by. “Whatever. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Louis shuts up. He sits there trying not to make it obvious that he can’t take his eyes off Harry - the slump of his shoulders, the defeat in his eyes are just so  _ heartbreaking _ \- until Harry chooses to break the silence with a heavy sigh. 

“You’ve already got something written, haven’t you?”

Louis doesn’t answer. 

“Have you sent it in yet?”

Louis doesn’t say anything, but he shakes his head. “I wanted you to agree to me sending it in before I do.”

Harry inhales sharply, and when Louis dares to look up Harry’s eyes are wide, shiny with hurt. “Oh.”

“Harry…”

“But you’d already made up your mind that you were going to send it in,” Harry cuts across him. “Because you wouldn’t have written it otherwise.”

“It’s the right thing to do,” Louis says with a shrug. “And I wanna do what’s right and what’s right is getting Peter the disciplinary action he deserves.”

“And what if he’s let off with nothing more than a warning?” Harry scrubs a hand over his face. “And then things get worse because my boyfriend dobbed him in, but it’s me that’s the bad guy?”

“Then we cross that bridge, but if he gets worse then we put in another complaint.”

“It’s not going to be that easy,” Harry snaps, hugging his arms around himself. “You make it sound so easy, Lou, but it isn’t. It’s me that works with him, it’s me that’s going to be at the receiving end of this.”

“And I’m going to be there every step of the way making sure you’re not on the receiving end of anything!” Louis nearly explodes. “You won’t get hurt because of this, I promise.”

“You don’t… you’re not listening to me,” Harry groans. “You know what? Just… do whatever you want, Louis, because me arguing with you clearly isn’t going to change your mind.”

“No, it won’t,” Louis agrees quietly. They lapse into silence, Harry looking at his hands and Louis looking at Harry, until Harry clears his throat awkwardly and moves to stand up.

“Do you mind if I go home?” he says timidly, and Louis’s heart feels like it shatters into a thousand tiny pieces. “I just… I’m upset and I’m tired and I just want my own bed. So yeah.”

“Harry,” Louis says weakly, setting his empty mug down on the coffee table and reaching for him, “please don’t leave on my account. If I've upset you…”

“You know you’ve upset me,” Harry says, but he doesn’t sound angry about it, just tired. “I think it just makes more sense for me to go home now.”

“Okay,” Louis nods, even though every fibre of his being is telling him to latch onto Harry and to not let him walk through that door. “If you want some time alone then of course you don’t have to stay.”

Harry nods, then disappears to the bedroom. Louis doesn’t follow him. He comes back a couple of minutes later with his duffel bag, smiling sadly at Louis before he tilts his head towards the front door. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”

“Can I at least give you a hug?” Louis asks in a small voice. “I’m so sorry I’ve hurt you Haz, I really am.”

“You can hug me,” Harry says, dropping his bag to the floor and accepting Louis into his arms. “God, I’m not…” He kisses the top of Louis’s head. “I’m not, like, walking away or anything, Lou. I just want some space tonight.”

Louis breathes a little easier when he says that. “Okay, darling,” he says gently, leaning forward and kissing Harry’s cheek. He isn’t sure whether it’s appropriate to kiss him on the lips at the moment. “You take all the time you need.” He swallows, unsure. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about it all. I’m sorry I reacted the way I did, I’m sorry if I’ve put you in an uncomfortable position…” He huffs an awkward laugh. “I’m sorry for upsetting you like this so early in our relationship.”

Harry breaks the hug and steps back, shrugging. “I don’t think you could have predicted Sunday night to happen though, so.” He shrugs again. “I’m just going to go home and FaceTime my sister and have a bath and try and unwind a bit.”

Louis nods. “Enjoy your evening, love.”

Harry darts forward and presses the softest, lightest kiss onto Louis’s mouth before he picks up his bag and heads out. Louis stands there for a minute, watching the door close behind him, and feels like he might cry or scream or both. 

He doesn’t know what to do now, so he spends the next hour pacing his flat trying to decide whether or not to even send the email now. He does eventually press send, heart racing as he does so, but he knows he’s doing the right thing. This is the kind of thing that he can’t leave alone, especially now it’s happened outside of work as well as during work hours. If Harry can’t socialise with his colleagues and friends without fear of one of the group being an absolute prick then what can he do?

He has a shower and then makes himself cereal for dinner for the first time in ages, but all he can think about is Harry Harry Harry. He puts a film on Netflix and tries to focus on it, but finds himself obsessively checking his phone every few moments, worried he’ll miss something if he puts it down for even a second.

He doesn’t miss anything. His phone doesn’t buzz with any texts or phone calls at all and he goes to bed feeling like garbage, lying awake and panicking that he’s somehow ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to him by trying to do the right thing.

It’s a miserable night.

When he shows up at the theatre the next afternoon, coffee for Harry in hand even though he hasn’t actually asked him if he wants one, he opens his dressing room to find him already there. 

“Haz?” 

“Hi, Lou,” Harry says, getting up off the table he’s perched on and strolling over to Louis. “This for me?”

“You know it,” Louis tells him, tilting his head back to accept Harry’s peck on the lips in thanks. “You okay, love?”

“Yeah, I’m better.” Harry takes a sip of his coffee and tilts his head to one side. “You okay yourself?” He strokes Louis’s chin. “Christ, babe, did you get any sleep last night?”

Louis snorts. “Cheers, love. I got a couple of hours but not as much as I’d have liked, if I’m honest.” He curls a hand around Harry’s wrist and squeezes, already feeling guilty about the way Harry’s face falls at his words. “It’s not your fault, I’m not trying to make you feel bad.”

Harry nods, but he still worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “Yeah, but…”

Louis shakes his head. “No buts, baby. I promise I’m fine. Could do with a cuddle though, if you’ve got a few minutes.”

Harry sets his coffee down and pulls Louis into his arms, kissing the top of his head. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “Always got a few minutes for a cuddle.”

They don’t speak for a few minutes until Harry’s called for over the radio and he leaves with the promise that he’ll join Louis for lunch, so they can have a proper chat. He kisses Louis before he leaves and Louis feels better about the day ahead from just that. 

He’s just filling up his kettle at the little sink in the corner to make a cuppa with when there’s a knock on the door, so he sets it down and heads over to answer it, briefly wondering if Harry’s forgotten something in here.

It isn’t Harry, it’s Ben.

“Louis,” he says, nodding in greeting. “You alone in there?”

Louis nods. “Yeah. I assume this is about my email to you.”

“It is indeed,” Ben says, putting his hands in his pockets. “Can we have a quick chat then?”

Louis nods again and steps aside to let Ben in the dressing room. He considers sending Niall a quick text asking him to give them twenty minutes before he appears, but he decides against it. “I hope it was okay that I emailed you about something that happened outside of work.”

“I think it’s good for me to know, yeah.” Ben leans against the counter and crosses his arms. “I’m a little confused as to why it came from you and not Harry though.”

“Harry didn’t want to write it,” Louis says carefully. “And I hope you didn’t read it as me writing it on Harry’s behalf. I wanted to let you know that it had happened and that a lot of us had been witnesses to Peter bullying him, and it was my choice to submit that complaint.”

Ben raises his eyebrows. “Your choice. So Harry had nothing to do with it at all.”

“Absolutely not,” Louis says firmly. His cheeks are flaming. It’s not even a lie, it’s just he isn’t sure how much Ben knows about their relationship. He assumes he knows they’re something more than friends, but he doesn’t know how much that’ll impact what he’s saying. “He told us on the night that he wanted to keep it apart from work entirely, that he didn’t want any of us to submit anything to you.”

“Us?” Ben questions. “Who is us?”

“Me, Liam, Zayn, Niall.” Louis shrugs. “We’re the ones who left when he did, but honestly, Ben, you could ask multiple people at the party. Any of the girls, any of the techs… it was in front of the whole garden full of people.”

Ben nods tightly. “Okay, well, I think I will talk to some other people because this is quite the serious allegation. I want to make sure everything makes sense to me before I go and talk to Steve, or even Peter.” He gestures at Louis. “Do you mind telling me your version of events now?”

Louis nods and launches into the story, explaining everything that he remembers about Harry and Peter’s relationship, from their first day when Peter mocked him for being inexperienced to the party and everything in between. He tells Ben about finding Harry lurking outside the building early on in the run, visibly upset, and how he’d heard stories from other members of the cast and crew of him saying snide things to Harry as well as behind his back. He talks about the way Harry had broken down after the microphone debacle and how reluctant he was to return to work, and how the incident at the party had had him threatening to quit mid-run. 

(He leaves out the bit about the fight they had last night and also the bit about him shoving Peter out of Harry’s face. Those are things his boss doesn’t need to know.)

“And now, and be honest with me Louis,” Ben says as he scratches at his cheek. “Are you and Harry together?”

Louis goes cold. 

It must show on his face because Ben raises his eyebrows and then chuckles. 

“Yeah, we all thought as much.”

“It’s not…” Louis croaks. “It’s not a secret, really, is it?”

“Not even close to one, mate,” snorts Ben. “But I am glad you didn’t try and deny it.” He stands up straight. “Alright, well I’ve heard everything I want to, I think. I’ll have a word with Peter later on today.”

“Okay,” Louis says awkwardly, not sure whether that admission was good or bad. “Did I… is that…”

“Hey, there’s no problem with you and Harry being together, let me make that clear.” Ben holds up his hands. “I just wondered where this sudden… need to get so angry you pushed him away was.”

Louis’s eyes go wide, his mouth dropping open. “Wha…”

“I already had a chat with Josh in the office,” Ben confesses. “He brought it up actually, asked me if Peter had come and seen me yet.”

Louis frowns. “Has Peter… put a complaint in against Harry?”

“No, he’s not said anything, at least not yet.” Ben stands up straighter and crosses his arms. “Does Peter have a reason to put in a complaint against Harry?”

“Absolutely not,” Louis says, horrified.

“Then he probably won’t.” Ben claps Louis on the shoulder. “Don’t look so pissed off, Louis, we’ll sort this. I don’t much like the idea of my Deputy Head of Tech picking on the younger guys, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis echoes. “Cheers, Ben.”

Ben nods and heads towards the door. “Don’t let this affect your A-game either. You’re in the middle of an amazing run out there and all of us, cast and crew and everyone, are loving it, all doing fabulous across the board. So chin up and leave it with me, alright?”

“Alright,” Louis says with a nod, his head spinning a bit. Once the door clicks shut he heads back over to the kettle and makes his brew, then sits on the sofa staring into space until Niall turns up and starts distracting him with cat memes.

He doesn’t see Harry again until later in the day, not until he comes to find him just before curtain up. “Hey,” he says, catching Louis backstage. “Can I come back to yours tonight?”

Louis nods eagerly. “Or I can come to yours, whatever you want, love.”

“Yours,” Harry repeats, then checks who’s watching before leaning in and giving Louis a brief kiss. “Gotta go. Break a leg, babe.”

Their performance that night feels pretty routine - it’s a Tuesday, so the house isn’t completely full, but Louis still enjoys himself as he always does. Once it’s over he moves quickly to get back to his dressing room, wanting to head home as quick as he can with Harry rather than faffing around here. He makes quick work of changing before shoving his costume in the laundry hamper, and when he’s just about ready there’s a knock on his dressing room door.

It’s Harry, of course. “Ready to go?”

Louis nods, taking Harry’s hand in his and kissing his knuckles as a hello. “Shall we get an Uber if we’re going to mine?”

Harry shrugs. “I don’t mind the Tube journey.” 

Louis tugs him towards Stage Door, already digging his phone out the pocket of his trackies. “Uber on me, dinner on me, all of it on me, sunshine. My way of apologising, innit.”

Once they’re outside, Harry pulls Louis into a hug and presses a long kiss onto the top of his head. “You don’t need to apologise again,” he murmurs. Louis’s arms tighten around him. “I know it came from a good place and I don’t want it to be, like, awkward between us because you think I’m mad at you.”

“Okay,” Louis’s voice is muffled by Harry’s chest. He pulls back enough to smile up at his boyfriend. “Can I still spoil you a bit tonight to apologise further?”

Harry snorts. “Well, I’m not gonna say no to that.”

By the time they get back to Louis’s flat it’s nearly 11pm, which isn’t unusual for a standard show day, but it does mean that Louis isn’t in the mood to cook (not that he ever is). They order in from the 24-hour pizzeria around the corner and settle in on the sofa with their feast in just t-shirts and boxers, cans of Diet Coke on the coffee table. They haven’t spoken much since getting into the flat, just little nuggets of chatter here and there, but now they take the time to talk about everything properly. 

“I just want to say,” Louis starts, forkful of pasta halfway to his mouth, “that everything I’ve done about this has come purely from a place of care and, like, protection.” He flushes red. “I have this, like, overwhelming urge where I want to protect you, which is dumb because you’re a grown man who’s half a foot taller than me and works out more times a week than I’ve worked out in the past year.” He shrugs and Harry snorts. “But it’s how I feel.”

Harry laughs humorlessly, looking down at his own plate of food. “It’s funny you feel that way,” he chuckles darkly, “Because that’s exactly why I hate you seeing my vulnerable side.”

Louis frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Sometimes I feel like I should be the one protecting you,” Harry mumbles.

“Why, because you’re usually the top?” Louis asks cheekily. Harry swats at him.

“No, because you’re my boyfriend,” he replies simply, then shrugs again. “I can’t explain it cos obviously we’re each other’s boyfriends, but I don’t like the idea of anyone seeing me as weak or rubbish or like I can’t fight my own battles, especially you.”

“I don’t think that for a second,” Louis hurries to say, but Harry keeps going.

“I know, but it’s how I feel and this whole thing with Peter is like literally nothing I’ve ever experienced before and I hate it so much, but I thought I could make it go away on my own but I can’t and I just feel…” Harry trails off, his body slumping. “I feel like shit, to be blunt. I love and hate work at the same time and it fills me with dread to think about what might have happened if you weren’t there with me, and I hate that as well.”

“Baby,” Louis says, a little awed by this. He had no idea it ran this deep. “God, I didn’t know it was affecting you this much.”

Harry just shrugs again. “I didn’t want to tell you because… I dunno, it can just feel a bit trivial. My boss is mean to me sometimes. Yeah, sure Harry. Whose boss isn’t mean to them sometimes?”

“Peter isn’t just mean, he’s a downright fucking bully,” Louis scowls. “And from the conversation I had with Ben earlier, everybody knows it. But nobody has really done anything about it because it’s just one person’s word against his and, whether we like it or not, the bloke’s good at his job.”

“I fucking hate it,” Harry curses, his bottom lip twitching. “I hate that I feel like such a fucking child about this, but I’m a grown man and I’m having to go through a fucking bullying issue at the age of 24 and I can’t fucking stand it.”

“I hate it too, darling,” Louis tells him. He squeezes his leg. “And I just want you to be happy - in general, of course, but if I can help make it better in any way I’m gonna try.”

“You help so much,” Harry says earnestly. “You’re so supportive and incredible and stuff, and I know you hate Peter as much as I do, if not more because I know what you’re like. This was just something I thought and kind of wanted to solve on my own but.” He shrugs. “I don’t think I can.”

“Are you… okay with me having sent in the complaint then?” Louis asks tentatively. “Because Ben came and talked to me today about it and he seems very much on your side.”

“He came and talked to me too,” Harry says. “Actually, he called me into his office when I first got in.”

“Really?” Louis raises his eyebrows. “How did that go?”

“Alright, I think.” Harry starts picking at a loose thread on his jeans. “He was, like you said on my side about it all and asked why I hadn’t been the one to come forward.” He looks up. “Asked if I was  _ really _ that terrified of Peter.”

Louis’s heart feels like it’s thumping against his chest. “What did you say back?”

“I said I was scared of reporting him for nothing to change,” Harry admits. “That it didn’t feel like anything would happen if it was my word against his.” He chuckles. “Ben called me a silly bugger and then told me I’ve got a right feisty boyfriend.”

Louis snorts. “I should say you do.”

“So yeah, I do feel better and I want you to know I was mad at you, but I’m not anymore.” Harry puts his plate to the side and crawls towards Louis, who accepts him easily into his arms. “I hate to admit it but you were kind of right.”

Louis laughs and kisses the top of Harry’s head. “Really.”

“Don’t get a big head about it now,” Harry warns, but he kisses Louis anyway. “And, dare I say it wasn’t just you. But it did help, you getting involved.”

Louis hums his affirmation and kisses Harry again. “I’m proud of you, you know.”

“That means a lot,” Harry says happily. Then he clears his throat. “Anyway, I’ve had enough of talking about work when we’re not there.” He presses Louis back on the sofa and hovers over him, pinning Louis’s wrists against the cushions. “Wanna make out for a bit?”

They end up snogging on the sofa for a long time, until it’s way too late into the night for them to do anything more than go to bed. Louis doesn’t get to spoil Harry quite as he planned (mostly because he’s too tired to have sex), but Harry doesn’t seem that phased. After they’ve brushed their teeth and turned off all the lights, Harry starfishes across the bed as Louis rubs moisturiser into his face. 

“Make yourself at home, babe,” he laughs, shaking his head. “Have as much duvet as you want.”

“I like being in your bed,” Harry admits. “It smells like you and I like that.”

“You’re a dreadful sap,” Louis tells him with a roll of his eyes, but he clambers into bed beside him and tucks Harry into him, kissing his forehead. “But you’re a lovely sap and I like you being in my bed too.”

They kiss lazily for a bit, not turning into anything more because they’re both exhausted and sleepy and content to be back in each other’s company. Louis falls asleep with his face buried in Harry’s shoulder, arms around his waist, and he sleeps better than he feels like he has in ages.

Wednesdays shows come and go and he doesn’t see Peter at all. Neither does Harry as it happens - Peter called in sick on Tuesday and then on Wednesday ended up spending all day with the band trying to fix the broken drum kit, which means he’s barely in the tech office.

In fact, he doesn’t even see Peter again until Thursday when he’s called into a meeting with him and Ben.

“What am I doing here?” Peter challenges the second he sits down. He glares at Louis. “What’s going on?”

“Good morning to you too, Peter,” Ben says sarcastically. “Anyway, yes, I’ve called you in here to talk about Harry Styles.”

“Ah yes, Harry Styles, my least favourite team member,” Peter says with a shrug, like he’s just telling them the facts and not slagging Louis’s boyfriend off in front of him, like this is a normal way to approach a meeting. “What about him?”

“Well, Pete,” says Ben, “Louis here has submitted a complaint to me regarding your behaviour. He claims it’s bullying and brutish and you talk down to him in front of everyone. Is this true?”

Peter’s eyebrows shoot up so far they nearly disappear. “What’s it got to do with him how I talk to my staff members?” he sneers. He turns to Louis. “Literally what business is it of yours?”

“Peter,” Ben warns. “We aren’t talking about why it was Louis that submitted the complaint. We’re talking about whether I need to follow up on this.” 

“If you want to spend a day in the tech office seeing how I talk to my staff, then feel free,” Peter says icily. “But I can assure you that any time I snap at Harry or whatever, it’s nothing more than he deserves.”

“Bullshit,” Louis snaps. He can’t bite his tongue any longer. “That’s absolute garbage and we both know it. I think everyone here knows it but we’re too deep into the production to say anything. But you’re a goddamn bully and you know it.”

“I’m not a bully,” Peter says, voice low. “I run a tight ship but you have to in a production this big.”

“It’s not your bloody ship to run, it’s Steve’s,” Louis points out. 

“Yeah, well, I shouldn’t have to babysit newbies and teach them how to use every single bit of tech in a theatre,” Peter huffs. “Especially in one like ours. Why we’re bringing in new starters who don’t know anything on a production this big is beyond me.”

“That’s your fucking job, you fucking loser,” Louis snaps, crossing his arms across his chest. “If you’re not gonna teach your staff properly, it’ll obviously come across in their work, and by the sounds of things you spent more time fucking slagging Harry off to the other techies than teaching him anything.”

“Language, Louis,  _ please. _ ”

“Look, Ben, I’m sorry, but it’s bang out of order.” Louis sits up a little higher in his chair. “I don’t mean to swear, but I’m just pissed off because it’s not on, yeah? The way he talks about the lad is gross and if he’s doing it now, even in front of you, the boss and me, his fuc- his boyfriend…” He shrugs. “He knows that’s going to piss me off and I’m obviously going to defend him, right? So then it makes it look like I’m only defending him because we’re together, which isn’t true.”

“So wait a minute, wait a minute,” Peter chimes in, looking between Ben and Louis incredulously. “You’re gonna sit there and tell me, as someone who’s a fairly seasoned actor, who’s worked at loads of different venues and towns and whatever, that you’ve met a techie worse than Harry?” He scoffs like he’s confused. “Look me in the eye and tell me you’ve worked with a techie who's done worse than breaking six mics two days before opening night.”

“I worked a panto once where the sound tech fell asleep in the booth because he was hungover and missed every single one of his cues in Act II,” Louis says, ticking off on his fingers as he goes. “I’ve had someone rig a light by themselves and not get it safety checked only for it to fall and smash half the set during the dress rehearsal. I’ve had a tech superglue one of my props to the prop table as a not-so-funny joke on press night. I’ve had…”

“Okay, okay.” Ben holds up a hand for Louis to stop. “Points heard and registered, Louis.” He turns to Peter, who harrumphs and crosses his arms, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “Harry is… a little rough around the edges, perhaps, and yes, the whole water over the mics incident wasn’t all that wonderful, but I agree that it’s hardly the worst thing in the world. It was an accident and I think even you know that, Peter.”

“But it’s not an isolated incident, is it?” Peter claps back, throwing his hands in the air. “Look, Ben, I get what you’re saying but come on. I hardly think it’s fair that it’s Louis in here and not Harry sticking up for himself.”

“I didn’t call this meeting for Harry to stick up for himself, I called this meeting because Louis put in a formal complaint about you,” Ben says, tapping away at his keyboard. He opens the email on his computer screen and angles it so Peter can see, but doesn’t keep it there long enough for him to read. “He said that there was a party at Jesy’s house for her birthday and you were being extremely unprofessional and rude, slagging Harry off loudly in front of the poor lad himself as well as everyone else there.” He fixes Peter with a look. “Is that true, Pete?”

Peter looks ready to flip the desk. “Well… yeah, okay, so the conversation of Harry’s absolute incompetence did come up  _ maybe  _ a bit between me and the rest of the lads.” He throws his hands up in the air. “But what are we meant to do, boss? Just pretend it’s not happening?”

“You come to me, Pete,” Ben says, clearly exasperated. “If you think a member of your team is that bad at his job, you come to me or Steve. You don’t shout it in the lad’s face on a drunken night out, come on. That’s really unfair.”

“I hardly shouted it in his face,” Peter scoffs.

Louis lets out some kind of hysterical laugh, but nothing about this is funny. “You literally fucking screamed it in his face, you fucking cunt.”

“ _ Louis.” _

“No,” Louis snaps, slapping his hand on the table. “No, no, no, Ben. I’m not… he’s a fucking liar! Ask Niall, ask Zayn or Liam, ask… hell, ask Jesy or Jade or anyone else who was there because the whole party heard him say that Harry was the worst technician the West End has ever seen. Like, he proper sneered it in his face, I’m not joking.”

Ben looks back over to Peter. “And did you?”

“Why do you even care what I do when I’m not at work though?” Peter challenges. “I bet you go home and bitch to your wife about your colleagues, so why can’t I?”

“You screamed in his face,” Louis says flatly, crossing his arms across his chest. “You screamed at him and got the rest of the techies to join in on the joke. It’s not the fucking same, asshole.”

“Louis, for the last time…”

“Look, Ben,” Louis says with a frustrated sigh. “I can’t do this, mate. I’m too angry. Either he apologises to Harry or I go.”

Peter barks a laugh. “Are you fucking serious? That’s pathetic, Louis, Jesus.”

“I’ll tell you what’s pathetic, you horrible piece of…”

“Louis, get out of my office right now,” Ben instructs, standing up and pointing to the door. There’s no room for argument in his tone. “Wait for me outside and I’ll have a conversation in private with you after I’ve talked to Peter here, yes?”

Louis seethes, but he damn well knows he’s too angry to continue this without getting even more heated, so he relents. “Fine.” He stalks out the room without another word, taking care not to slam the door behind him - he doesn’t want to have Ben any more pissed off with him than he already is - and flops into the armchair outside it, dropping his head into his hands. 

About fifteen minutes later, the door flings open and Peter marches out at speed, straight past Louis without even sparing him a glance. He storms down the corridor and slams the stage door behind him, which isn’t a great sign, but at least he didn’t say anything to Louis, because Louis probably would have punched him in the nose.

Ben appears a few moments later. “Louis? Wanna join me again?”

Louis nods and follows Ben back into the office, dropping back into the chair he’d been sitting in earlier. Ben sits back behind his desk and folds his hands together. He doesn’t say anything for several seconds, and then he just sighs.

“Louis, mate.”

“Ben, I know what you’re about to say…”

“No, I don’t think you do.” Ben holds up a hand. “I’m fuming about this whole situation to be honest, and I don’t really understand why it’s gotten to this point.”

Louis furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t understand why Harry didn’t come to me or Steve if he felt he was being bullied,” Ben says, ticking off on his fingers. “I don’t understand why, if Harry felt he couldn’t, you didn’t grab me or Steve for a private word. Louis, we all respect you here so much.”

“I…” Louis groans. “Harry didn’t even want me to send the email in, Ben. Thought it made it look like I was stirring the pot, which I just want to say, I never wanted it to come across like that, but Peter… Peter’s been a prick to me since the day I met him and he’s been a prick to Harry for longer. Harry…” He pauses for a second, gathering his words together before he says something he shouldn’t. “Harry doesn’t think he’s very good at his job, right? He gets nervous about coming to work because he think he’s going to fuc-  _ sorry _ , make mistakes and do the wrong thing all the time, and to be honest with you, at this point I don’t know if he’s reasoned in his nerves or if they’re just shot to pieces because of how Peter’s been treating him, you know?”

Ben nods. “I think…” He starts, then hesitates, like he’s also trying to gather his thoughts together. “I think we’d both be wrong in saying if we said that Harry is the best techie in the world,” he starts, then holds up his hands. “Alright, you don’t need to look at me like you want to murder me.”

“Sorry,” Louis mumbles. “I’m just… I’m pretty protective of him, if you couldn’t already tell.”

“Oh, we can tell,” Ben snorts, “And, Lou, for what it’s worth, we all love that you and Harry have come together like you have. You seem well suited and happy together, so there’s that.”

Louis beams. He’ll never not feel smug about being in a relationship with Harry. “Cheers, Ben.”

“However,” Ben says, from soft to stern in a matter of seconds, “Your behaviour back there in front of Peter was unacceptable. You can’t call him an effing c-word in a recorded conversation and expect to get away with it just because you’re the lead in the show.”

“I didn’t do it because I thought I could get away with it. I did it because it’s true.”

“I understand that, but I can’t let it slide, mate, I’m sorry,” Ben tells him. “So here’s what’s happening. I agree with your complaint and I do agree that Peter has acted in the wrong, has acted inappropriately and should face the consequences. I knew that before we even got in this meeting so I’d already spoken to Steve before I pulled you both in here. We both have been aware that he’s a bit of a loose cannon and that he’s upset the team before, that he’s unprofessional and can be a bit of a bully, but people don’t like to come forward.” He shrugs. “We all work so closely in this business that it’s hard to do so and I get that. So this is what’s happening now. Peter will be suspended without pay for the next 7 days and, once we’ve reviewed his previous disciplinaries, spoken to some other members of the team and spoken to Harry, of course, we’ll make a final decision.”

Louis has to use extreme self control to avoid fist-pumping the air. Instead, he just nods.

“But you can’t call other members of staff an effing c-word, and you can’t shove colleagues, regardless of whether that’s in or outside of work, without any repercussions,” Ben continues. Louis hangs his head - he has a fair idea of what’s about to come. “So, I’ve spoken to Steve and Nick and James and we’ve had to make the difficult decision to also give you a brief suspension.”

Louis looks up. “Brief suspension?”

“For the rest of the week, meaning the next four days, you won’t be performing,” Ben explains. “Nick is prepping Jack right now as understudy. Your overall pay for this month will be adjusted accordingly with the Finance team to reflect this suspension. We’ll put posters in the bar and on the doors that it’s due to unforeseen circumstances, keep it nice and general, but you’ll be reinstated for Tuesday, alright?”

“Understood,” Louis says with a nod. He’d thought it was going to be much worse, if he’s honest. “And for what it’s worth, I appreciate it. I know this has been a crap situation - crap isn’t a swear word! - but thank you for listening and for, you know…”

“I know,” Ben says, and he finally offers Louis a smile. “This has been no fun at all to do, Louis, I’m not gonna lie. And in future, please don’t shove any of my techies or call them nasty words.”

“Yes sir!” Louis pretends to salute. “I promise I won’t. You really do have my word on this.”

“Good,” Ben says with a nod. “I appreciate it.” He shakes his head. “Now get yourself gone before you swear at me any more today.”

Louis stands up and puts his hands together, thanking Ben once again. “I’ll be out your hair for the rest of the weekend now. I’m sure you’ll quite enjoy it.”

Ben rolls his eyes. “Yes, I will. Now out!”

Louis grins as he exits the room, skipping down the corridor and towards his dressing room, where he hopes he might find his boy. He’s just fumbling in his pockets for his key fob when the door opens and Harry nearly bumps into him, which makes them both jump.

“Oh. Hello,” Harry says.

“Hi, love,” Louis says, then reaches out and takes one of Harry’s hands in both of his, tugging him forward. He gently guides him over to one of the hidden corners at the back of the corridor where the theatre stores some old set pieces. “So I’m out of my meeting.”

“I hadn’t realised,” Harry says dryly, then bites his lip. He looks and sounds nervous. “How, um, how did it go?”

Louis looks at the floor and takes a deep breath. He really hopes Harry doesn’t hate him for this. “I’m kinda suspended?”

“Kinda suspended?” Harry shrieks, eyes wide. He fists his hands in his hair and glares at Louis, taking a step back as Louis tries to reach for him. “Are you shitting me?”

“For four days, Haz, it’s fine.” Louis shrugs. “Ben says that Jack can understudy for me and I lose six shows’ worth of pay, but honestly.” He reaches for Harry again, wrapping loose arms around his waist, and this time Harry goes willingly, tucking himself into Louis’s hold and pressing a kiss to the top of Louis’s head. “I’d have it be longer if it means that Peter can’t speak to you ever a-fucking-gain.”

“You’re a prick,” Harry mumbles, but there’s no heat behind it. “A fucking silly prick.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Louis shrugs. He moves his head back so Harry’s face is just above his, so they’re looking at each other properly. “A fucking silly prick who just got his first weekend off in flipping ages though.”

“Louis,” Harry scolds, pouting. “That isn’t the point.”

“No, the point is that Peter is also suspended without pay and his contract is to be reviewed, as well as a review of previous disciplinaries and recorded conversations with Steve. Apparently there’s been a fair few.”

“Seriously?” 

“Seriously,” Louis says, then bounces up on his toes just enough to peck Harry on the lips. “So don’t worry, darling. Your job isn’t going anywhere and neither am I. Too fucking expensive for them to reprint all those programmes, for a start.”

Harry shakes his head, but he’s finally smiling. “Okay,” he mumbles, then kisses Louis once again. “So he’s gone for the day then? He won’t be in the tech office?”

“Don’t think so,” Louis says. “Is all your stuff up there?” Harry nods. “Want me to come with you and we’ll grab it and get out of here?”

“I mean, some of us still have to work,” Harry tuts, but they start moving in the direction of the tech office anyway. “But do you have to leave if you’re suspended?”

“I… don’t know actually,” Louis admits. He shrugs against Harry’s arm that rests over his shoulders. “It’s probably not super professional for me to hang around, to be fair.”

“Well, I can be done by the end of Act I,” Harry says, like Louis doesn’t know this already. “So do you want to go home for a bit and then I’ll meet you at, like, quarter to 9 and we’ll get a late dinner?”

“Sounds lovely, darling,” Louis hums, halting them so he can give Harry a kiss. “Hey,” he murmurs softly, moving them to the side so they’re no longer in the main corridor, tucked away behind some of the costume rails. “I mean it, Harry. I don’t regret getting suspended and I don’t regret calling Peter a cunt and shoving him at the party, I really don’t.”

Harry sighs. “I just…”

“No, no, no,” Louis says, hand strong and possessive on the back of Harry’s neck, the other wrapped around his waist, boxing him in. “I don’t want you to still be thinking that you’re responsible, because you bloody well aren’t. He’s a prick and he’ll always be a prick unless people stand up to him.”

“Yes, I know. You did it for me,” replies Harry flatly, face going stoney as he says it. “You stood up for me because I didn’t.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, darling,” Louis says gently. “I did it because I know what this industry is like, to people doing all its jobs. It’s fucking cutthroat, I know that. And this is your first job like this and to get a shitty manager is, well, really shitty. It isn’t easy to stand up to a person like Peter.”

Harry sags a bit in his hold but Louis stays firm, peppering kisses into his jaw before Harry moves away.

“I don’t… can we talk about this later?” he asks quietly. Louis nods. “I don’t, like, I don’t want to talk about it here where he or his friends can…”

“Of course, babe.” Louis kisses him quickly and then steps back, untangling himself from their embrace and nodding. “I get it, Haz, and I also get why you’re upset with me doing it. And I really don’t want you to think I’m trying to be a martyr for you or anything, because I’m not. I just… I won’t stand for cunts like Peter.”

Harry nods his head, just once, then takes Louis’s hand once more as they step back out onto the corridor. They share a quick kiss goodbye before Harry heads to the tech office and Louis goes back to his dressing room to collect his things, glad that the rest of the guys are doing their vocal warm-ups and he doesn’t have to see any of them.

He jumps on the tube and heads back to his flat, where he pops his phone on charge and lights a candle and has a long shower and belts his heart out to Oasis for a bit. Once he’s wrapped in his towel he lounges on his unmade bed for a while, scrolling through Instagram and TripAdvisor for a suitable restaurant to book a last minute table at, to take Harry for the best I’m-Sorry-I-Fucked-Up-But-I-Did-It-Because-I’m-Kind-Of-In-Love-With-You dinner ever. He eventually settles on this Chinese restaurant he’s been to with Lottie a few times, where the food was fresh and delicious and the walls were strung from ceiling to floor with fairy lights and quirky paintings. 

He dresses in one of his favourite date night outfits - a blue button-up shirt with dark blue skinny jeans, just a little bit ripped on the thighs and at the knees, and some sensible brown brogues - before quiffing his hair, spritzing his favourite aftershave, and putting on the thinnest layer of lip balm, because if the night goes his way he might have some dry lips come the morning. He shoves his keys, his debit card and his phone in his pockets and then skips out the door, giddy already, excited to wine and dine this boy, this wonderfully endearing and overwhelmingly  _ gorgeous  _ lad that he’s so lucky to have fallen in love with.

It’s only as he gets downstairs and outside into the cold that his brain catches up with him.

He just thought about being in love with Harry.

_ Twice. _

Well then. 

That’s a turn up for the books. 

It’s something he knew was coming and hell, maybe he should have seen it coming sooner but he is wholly, unconditionally in love with Harry Styles. 

And he wants to tell him. 

If this whole situation with Peter has taught him anything (other than how much he hates him) it’s that when he threatened to quit his job for Harry, he meant it. Yeah, it was foolish and a spur of the moment threat, but he meant it. He’d give just about anything up to protect his boy. 

He’d do anything for Harry. 

He’s in love with Harry. 

He loves Harry. 

And maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance that Harry might feel similarly about him?

He hasn’t said it yet, neither of them have, but both of them have definitely come close. Just last week, Louis was getting dressed and Harry had walked across the room just to give him a kiss and tell him how much he loved him in a turtleneck, but the pause between his words had made Louis’s heart start beating a little faster for a few moments. 

He’s ready to tell him he loves him. 

When he meets Harry outside Stage Door, he’s dressed in a low buttoned blouse and white jeans, which is just an obscene combo in itself. Louis bounds over to him, arms wrapping straight around his neck and Harry catches him easily, leaning down to kiss him. 

They fit together so naturally that Louis can’t fathom it sometimes. 

He’s going to tell him tonight. 

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Harry says, biting his lip as he takes a short step back and looks Louis up and down. “You look beautiful.”

Louis blushes, pleased. Harry looks like he simultaneously wants to eat him and like he’s about to explode with fondness all at the same time, which is a lot to take in. It’s a lot to be in love with Harry Styles, but in the best way. 

“So do you,” he grins, tugging him back for another, deeper kiss. Harry’s hair is fluffy around his shoulders, his nails painted silver and the hoops in his ears have little crescent moons hanging from them. His smile is wide and toothy and Louis can’t get enough of him. He reckons he could look at him forever and never be bored. 

“Oh, stop,” Harry protests, but Louis can tell he’s just as flattered as Louis was. “Where are we going then, my love?”

“To mine and Lottie’s favourite place.” Louis slides his hand into Harry’s and starts to lead him towards the Tube station. “It’s not far from here and it’s really good food. They do the best honey chilli chicken you’ll ever have in your life.”

“Well, okay,” Harry says with a merry giggle, letting himself be led. 

The Tube ride is busy but fairly fast and pretty soon they’re stepping out into the cool evening air. It’s only a short walk to the restaurant so they make easy chit chat about how Louis’s understudy did (“good, but he didn’t hold a candle to you overall”) before they arrive. 

Once inside, they’re led to their table and they sit down, ordering a bottle of wine as they browse the menu. 

“Everything looks so good,” Harry murmurs, hand covering Louis’s loosely on the table. “I can see why this is your favourite place.”

“Innit,” Louis hums, squeezing Harry’s hand back. “I’ve never had a bad meal here, it’s so good. Like I said, my favourite starter is the honey battered chicken and I always get some duck pancakes regardless of what I’m having for my main.”

“You’re cute,” Harry says happily and leans over to peck Louis lightly on the lips. “Thank you for bringing me to your cute as fuck hole in the wall Chinese restaurant.”

“You’re welcome, my darling,” Louis replies just as the wine turns up. The waiter pours them each a glass and then takes their order for their starters. Once he’s left, Harry takes his hand over the table in one hand and reaches for his wine in the other, tilting it for Louis to cheers.

“To us, my lovely Louis.”

“To us, my sweet, sweet boy.” Louis clinks their glasses together and smiles happily. “You look lovely tonight, my angel.”

Harry blushes in the low light. “Thanks. I mean, it’s nothing special, just stuff I had kicking around in your dressing room.”

“And yet you always look gorgeous as hell,” Louis compliments, giggling as Harry preens.

“Shut up.” He takes another sip of wine. “So, um, after you left Ben and Steve both came and found me.”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry nods. “They’re having a meeting tomorrow about whether or not Peter will come back for the rest of the show.”

“Holy shit,” Louis says excitedly, giving Harry’s hand a sharp squeeze. “Baby, that’s fantastic.”

“Well, not for Peter but for me,” Harry says sheepishly. Louis knows how hard it must be for him to feel relieved about someone losing their job, but these are very unusual circumstances. “But yeah, if he leaves, like, I’ll be so happy at work. I think it’ll feel like a totally new workplace for me.”

“Who would replace him?”

“Josh would step up into his role and then I’d have to take on some extra responsibilities for no pay change, which is mostly what Ben came to talk to me about. I told them - well, I kind of blurted out, really - that I’d take anything over having Peter back, which I think took them all a bit by surprise, but if anything I hope it came across that, like, I’m not overreacting or anything.”

“That makes sense,” Louis murmurs, unable to shift the smile off his face. “God, I know it’s been so shit but it’s so nice to see you so relieved, baby, I can’t even tell you.”

“I know, same,” Harry agrees. “It feels like this super heavy weight has started to be lifted off me.” He sets his wine down on the table and edges his chair a little closer to Louis so he can kiss him again. “And for what it’s worth, I’m not pissed off at you. I was a bit, but I totally get why you did it, and I think realistically if the tables were turned in any way I would have reacted the same.”

“Yeah?” Louis asks shyly, tentatively. He still feels a bit sick at the thought that he upset Harry even a little, the look of betrayal on his face when he left Louis’s flat on Monday night still fresh in his mind. “I’m still so fucking sorry if you felt at all like I stepped on your toes or anything.”

Harry shrugs. “I’m just pleased the outcome is the way it is. I’m just happy I feel like I can breathe again.” 

“In that case,” Louis grins, raising his glass again. “To positive outcomes and positive steps forward for you, my love.”

“You’re such a sap,” Harry laughs, but he clinks Louis’s glass regardless.

The starters arrive in a big plate in the middle, easy for them to pick and choose as much as they want of each. Louis starts to fill his plate and clears his throat awkwardly.

“So I actually wanted to bring you here tonight for another reason, Haz.”

“Um,” Harry interrupts with his mouth full, then brings his napkin up to his mouth and spits it out. “Is this prawn?”

Louis frowns. “No, I ordered the chicken,” he says, then breaks the one on his plate in half with his knife. “Oh, shit. It’s a prawn.”

Harry’s laugh sounds panicked. “I’m allergic to prawns.”

“Oh my god,” Louis gasps, horrified. “Shit. Oh my god.”

“It’s fine,” Harry says, reaching for Louis’s napkin and wiping his mouth with it before he chugs his entire glass of water. “I mean it’s not fine but I only had one bite and I spat it out. I should be fine in a couple of minutes if I have some water.”

“Are you...” Louis stands up and gestures the waiter over frantically. “Hello. You’ve served my boyfriend something he’s allergic to.”

The waiter looks appalled. “I am so sorry,” he says, grabbing the plate away from them like Harry will have more of a reaction if it stays there. “What did you order?”

“This was meant to be honey battered chicken and it’s prawns,” Louis hisses. “He spat it out, but bloody hell. If he’d…”

Harry wraps a hand around his elbow gently as he chugs down another glass of water. “It’s fine,” he rasps, his voice sounding rough, like his throat is swelling. “Don’t take it out on him, Lou.”

“How is it fine? You’re  _ allergic _ ,” Louis snaps. 

“It’s fine,” Harry repeats. “I just need to keep drinking water otherwise my throat might dry up.”

“I’ll get the manager,” the waiter mumbles as he flees. Louis plops back down and rubs a hand up and down Harry’s back as he keeps chugging water. 

“I’m fine,” Harry says again, setting down the glass and looking at Louis earnestly. He  _ does  _ look mostly fine, except his neck is a little blotchy and his lips look swollen. “It’s a mild allergy anyway, really, I just come out in hives and my throat closes.”

“Mild,” Louis echoes weakly. He feels like utter shit already - this is a restaurant he loves so much and was so excited to bring Harry to, and they’ve not even eaten their appetisers before it’s all gone wrong. “Do you want me to run out and get you some Benadryl?”

Harry pauses and then nods. “That might be good actually. I think there’s a Boots around the corner that’ll probably still be open.”

“Sure,” Louis goes to stand, and then hesitates. “Actually I should wait until the manager comes over so I can tear him a new one.”

Harry snorts. “Baby, it’s fine. I’ll talk to him. I’m the one having the reaction after all.”

Louis sighs and kisses him quickly on his swollen lips before he practically runs out of there, searching for the closest pharmacy on his phone as he goes. Harry’s right, there is a Boots just around the corner that’s just closing for the night but Louis pleads his way in - he must look as frantic as he feels - and grabs Benadryl in capsule, liquid and nasal spray form, which may possibly be going overboard, but he’d rather be safe than sorry. 

He jogs back to the restaurant and weaves his way through the tables to get back to his. He sits back down just as the waiter turns up with a huge plate of mixed starters and he apologies again before murmuring he’s off to get their drinks. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Harry says, taking the tablets from Louis and popping two out. He necks them back with his glass of water easily. “Our meals are all free tonight and they’ve given this to us as an olive branch. And no, before you panic, the spring rolls and wontons are vegan”

Louis eyes up the plate of starters - there’s sesame chicken, ribs, spring rolls and wontons - and breathes a sigh of relief. “Okay. Fab. Sorry for overreacting like that. I just didn’t know that about you, and it really scared me.”

Harry hums and leans forward to kiss him quickly. “No harm done, sweetheart. I feel basically fine anyway now, but the pills should just make sure everything is fine, yeah?” He reaches for a rib and starts nibbling on it. “Now you can stop scowling and just enjoy the meal.”

Louis settles back and starts piling his new plate with the starters and picking happily as a chicken skewer. He feels excited now the night is back on track, ready to enjoy an evening of delicious (and non-toxic) food and good wine, and then he’s going to take Harry home and tell him he loves him and they’re going to have lots of sex. Perfect. 

Well. It’s perfect until the waiter returns with their drinks but stumbles over a chair behind them as he reaches their table, and then suddenly their water jug and two pints of beer are down Louis’s back and all over his plate. 

Louis could fucking  _ cry _ , honestly. 

He doesn’t even stand up from his chair, he just sits there and laughs a little bit maniacally because  _ what the fuck. _

This is karma for being thankful that Peter is getting sacked, he supposes.

Half an hour, a thousand apologies and now with a gift card for their next meal there (not that Louis ever wants to go back now), they step through the doors to Harry’s flat. 

“This was the worst date ever,” Louis huffs, slamming his keys and wallet on the side. “God.”

“It wasn’t the  _ worst  _ date ever,” Harry assures him, coming up behind Louis and wrapping his strong arms around his still-damp shoulders. “I mean, no date could be bad when it’s me and you.”

“Shut up,” Louis whines. He leans his head back against Harry’s chest and sighs as Harry presses a couple of kisses into his neck. “It was horrendous. You couldn’t tell me it was anything other than horrendous.”

“It was… different, like, one that’ll be a good story to tell at parties or whatever,” Harry tries again. Louis stamps his foot. 

“Stop being so nice about a date where you ended up with food you’re allergic to and I ended up with a tray of drinks down my back.”

Harry snorts and presses one final kiss to Louis’s neck before he breaks the hold, spinning Louis in his arms. 

“Did I ever tell you that when we went on that first date I got home, rang my mum and told her I think I’ve been on a date with my soulmate?”

Louis’s stomach flips upside down. “Huh?”

“Yep.” Harry strokes the fringe from Louis’s eyes and grins at him shyly. “So I mean it when I say you could literally serve me a bowl of cereal in dirty pyjamas and I’d still think it’s the best night of my life.”

“You think too highly of me,” Louis croaks, shaking his head. 

“Impossible,” Harry promises, carefully unbuttoning Louis’s soiled shirt. “You’re so lovely and well intentioned and it makes me so happy that you did that for me.”

“It’s only dinner,” Louis protests, but Harry shakes his head, sliding the shirt from his shoulders. 

“At your favourite restaurant,” Harry reminds him. “Though I’d wager it’s perhaps not your favourite restaurant right now.” Louis snorts. “But  _ you  _ wanted to take me there specifically because you love it, which is incredibly special.”

“Yes, but I wanted it to be perfect,” Louis scowls petulantly. There’s a part of him that wants to believe Harry so badly, but he just can’t given that it was objectively the worst date he’s ever been on. “I had all these things in my head planned to make it perfect and it got so fucked up.”

“It’s perfect because it’s you and me,” Harry insists, tilting Louis’s head up for a kiss. “I can’t hate a date I’m on with you because I want to be with you all the time, even if other people are trying to poison me.”

Louis snorts. He feels all tingly inside. “What the fuck did I do to deserve you, eh?”

Harry pulls his own shirt over his head and marches them back towards the bed, where he pushes Louis onto his back and crawls on top of him, kissing him long and languid. 

“You’re everything to me, you know that.” Harry bites his lip. “Everything, Louis.”

“You can’t just say that,” Louis complains, but the spike of pleasure and warmth that shoots through him says otherwise. “Even though you’re everything to me too.”

Harry’s still biting his lip and when he moves forward to cup Louis’s cheeks in his hands, there’s an uncharacteristically nervous look in his eyes. “I… I want to say something to you but I don’t know if it’s too soon.”

Time feels like it stops. Louis reaches up and wraps his arms around Harry’s neck, resting their foreheads together. He and Harry are the only two people in the world as far as he’s concerned, and he’s not even annoyed that Harry’s about to get there before he got the chance to. “If you say it first I’ll say it back.”

Harry’s eyes are shining as he says it. “I love you, Louis.”

“I love you too.” Louis reaches for him and they sink into each other’s hold, their mouths pressing together frantically. Harry makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat as Louis pulls him down frantically and they kiss for bloody ages because they’re in  _ love.  _

Their kisses get slower and messier eventually as they start to rut against each other, Louis’s legs spreading as Harry breaks away from his lips to kiss down his neck and chest. He moans as Harry kisses over his nipple, the surge of affection that runs through him almost overwhelming when Harry looks up and checks he’s okay as he always does, and he blurts out the cheesiest thing he thinks he’s ever said.

“I am so fucking lucky.” He pulls Harry up to him for another searing kiss. “I am so lucky I found you.” He blinks at Harry sheepishly. “I never even thought I’d fall in love again at one point but you’re literally the best thing that I think has ever happened to me.”

Harry grins at him like he’s magic. “I feel the same.” He cups Louis’s face. “God, everything is different with you. Everything's better with you and I love that.” He smirks. “Have I told you I love you enough tonight?”

“It’s never enough,” Louis tells him. “This is gonna be like that week where we didn’t call each other by names, we just called each other boyfriend and everyone hated us.”

Harry snorts. “That was a great week.” He pecks Louis’s lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Louis replies, then tackles him back onto the mattress and spends the next couple of hours demonstrating just how much he loves his boy.

His  _ soulmate.  _

*

Louis hasn’t topped someone in well over five years. 

Don’t get him wrong, he loves bottoming as much as the next bloke, but now he’s actually having some decent sex for once in his life he finds himself wanting to try everything. 

The rhythm him and Harry fell into naturally when it comes to sex was simple and easy and not one they’ve really discussed at all. With things being the way they were it felt almost natural for Louis to bottom when that was what he was always used to in his previous relationship and what he knew best, in a way. 

He’s well aware he’s slighter in stature than a lot of other blokes, and what with Harry being considerably taller and stronger than him it made sense for him to top first. If he thinks too much about trying the gender norms of it all he gives himself a headache. He loves being the bottom and he loves being fucked by Harry, so it’s not an issue. 

There is a teensy part of him that wants to try topping Harry though. 

After a few weeks of regular dickings that teensy part grows to a rather large part, a curiosity he can’t seem to shift. Harry’s O-face is one of his favourite things in the whole world, and the way an orgasm overtakes his full body and leaves him boneless, clingy and soft in his arms afterwards makes Louis very happy. He loves how tactile they are together. 

There’s one night when they’ve just had sex. Harry has his arms around Louis’s middle, running a low finger down so he can rub at his hole, tucking it back into the stretched ring of muscle. 

Louis whimpers from the oversensitivity but doesn’t tell Harry to stop. He’s still wet from all the lube so it’s easy enough for Harry to slide two fingers back in, just tucking them inside. 

“This okay?” he murmurs, low in Louis’s ear, and Louis can't do much else but whimper and nod, tucking his red, sweaty face into Harry’s shoulder. 

His cock starts to perk back up the longer Harry stays inside of him and pretty soon he’s hard again, something he hasn’t been able to do for years. He can’t even remember the last time he came twice in one session, but now they’ve started Harry can’t seem to stop. He’s like a man possessed as he rolls Louis onto his back and hitches his legs up before tucking his fingers back inside him, watching as Louis’s hole greedily takes his fingers again. 

“Can you come again, sweetheart?” he practically  _ growls, _ his voice is so deep. Louis whimpers again. “You can, can’t you, my angel?” He crooks his fingers to punctuate his point and Louis sobs, slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound. “No, let me hear you, come on baby.”

“Harry,” Louis slurs. It’s the only word he knows right now. “ _ Harry.” _

Harry kisses his ankle. “Come on, darling. Look at you, taking my fingers so well. Such a good boy for me, such a pretty boy…”

Louis cries out as his orgasm hits him, fingers tangling in the sheets and detaching them from the corners of the mattress. There’s sweat dripping down his chest and his legs are trembling as Harry slowly moves back, letting Louis’s legs drop back onto the mattress before he shuffles forward and  _ licks  _ the spunk off Louis’s tummy. 

“You’re fucking  _ filthy _ ,” Louis chuckles, and Harry makes a loud, obnoxious sound against his skin in response. 

“You love me,” he grins and Louis can’t help but grin back, the word still lovely and fresh and exciting between them. “And you’re hot when you come, so I can’t help but want to watch it all the time.”

Louis coaxes him back up so they’re cuddling again, pulling the duvet back around their shoulders. He presses a kiss to Harry’s chin, the part of him closest to him. “I’m fucking shattered now though,” he says, punctuating his statement with a yawn. “I don’t think I’ve ever come twice in one go like that.”

Harry frowns at him. “What, ever?”

Louis shrugs against the pillows. He already wishes he’d kept his mouth shut, always keen to not highlight his sexual inexperience any more than he has to. “No, not that I can think of. I didn’t even think I could, I just liked, like, having you close to me.”

Harry takes a long deep breath before kissing Louis fiercely, a long press of lips that has him reeling a bit when he pulls back. “I love you,” he says, and Louis can tell by his tone he’s trying not to press even though he wants to. 

“I love you too,” he croaks back, kissing him again before he moves to roll over to turn off the bedside lamp. The little clock beside Harry’s bed reads 2.47am, so no wonder he’s so tired. He flips back over and into Harry’s arms again. “I love you a lot, Harry.”

Harry presses his lips onto Louis’s forehead before he turns over in his arms, always the little spoon. It’s lovely and quiet in their little room, barely any outside noise even in the centre of London, and it’s always easy to fall asleep with Harry like this.

Except right now Louis’s brain won’t shut the fuck up.

He’s just come twice.  _ Twice _ . That’s never happened before and it happened without him even trying. And more than that, Harry manhandled him and started fingering him after they were finished, and Louis just  _ let  _ him. He didn’t have any qualms about Harry touching him like that. He knew that Harry would make him feel good and he also has no doubt that Harry would stop if he asked him to. 

Being in a healthy relationship is  _ weird.  _

But he can’t help wondering if Harry feels the same. 

“Harry?” he whispers, not sure if he’s even still awake. But he makes a small noise and Louis feels him shift in his arms, so he carries on. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Harry murmurs, turning back over in his arms. He can’t see his face but he does tangle his hand in the back of Harry’s hair. “What’s up, honey?”

“When you… when you finger me…” Fuck, Louis is glad it’s dark and Harry can’t see how red he inevitably is already. “Do you, like, ever think about me fingering you?”

He feels Harry freeze and let out a long breath. He clearly wasn’t expecting that question tonight, but then again Louis wasn’t really expecting to ask him tonight. 

“Um,” Harry whistles, then shuffles a little higher up the bed, resting a warm hand in the middle of Louis’s back, holding him closer. “Well, I mean I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it a bit.”

“Yeah?” Louis’s voice is small. “And, like, what about me… um, what about me actually fucking you?”

Harry’s breath hitches. “God, Louis. Yes, I want that. I really want that.”

“Yeah?” Louis says again. “For real or are you just saying that?”

“Fuck no,” Harry lets out a sardonic laugh. “I know we haven’t talked about this kind of thing yet and we’ve been having a lot of, like, what I guess I’d call very similar sex each time we do it, but I’m having fun and I always feel good?” He suddenly gasps. “Are you not feeling good anymore, is that…?”

“No? What the fuck?” Louis shakes his head wildly. God, he can’t even bear the idea that Harry thinks that when he’s having the best sex of his life. “I just like… I’ve never really experimented with sex in any way. And I want to. And I know being versatile with your partner isn’t exactly experimental, but it is to me? Who hasn’t done it all that much?”

“Okay,” Harry says simply. He hooks his ankle around Louis’s so their bottom half is mostly tangled together. “It’s just us, yeah? If it’s experimental to you then it’s experimental to me.”

“Yeah, but…” Louis doesn’t know how to say this next bit without sounding like a prat. “Is it that experimental to you?”

“Having sex isn’t experimental to me,” Harry says carefully. “I know you know I’ve had sex with a fair amount of people, but it doesn’t mean all of it was good sex or healthy or anything like that.”

Louis frowns. In all his overthinking and all the comparisons he’s made between their sex lives, he’s never thought about it like that. “I’m sorry, love,” he says. 

Harry shrugs. “Like, I’ve had sex with a fairly even spread of girls and boys, but with the boys I’ve been a decent mix of the bottom and the top. I don’t really have a preference.” He tickles his fingers under Louis’s chin. “And I feel like I don’t need to see your face to know you’re scowling.”

“I’m not scowling,” Louis scowls. “I can’t change your past.”

“You’re right, but it doesn’t mean you’re not a jealous little bean,” Harry coos, peppering kisses across Louis’s face, which only serves to make him scowl harder and bat Harry away. “Oh, baby, come here.”

“When you were with these… other men,” Louis says, spitting the last two words of the sentence out like they’re poison, “How did you pick who did what and when?”

“To be fair, quite a few were one night stands,” Harry says. “I’ve not really had, like, a relationship with a bloke before you came along. At least not one I’ve wanted to pursue like this, and like, have a varied sex life with.”

Louis frowns. “So when did you sleep with these lads then?”

“I was with Kendall for like two years and we used to split up and get back together all the time,” Harry explains. “When we would split up, she’d go off and fuck a girl and I’d go off and fuck a boy. It was toxic. It was really toxic and that’s the main reason I had sex with so many men.”

Louis is glad it’s dark enough for Harry not to see the expression on his face. He  _ hates  _ that Harry also had a shitty ex and he hates that it meant he ended up bouncing from bed to bed, not being treated like he deserves to be. 

“I’m sorry,” is all he can mutter. He draws Harry closer. “And I’m sorry I always sound so jealous when you talk about your ex. But I hate that she put you through that.”

“To be fair, I put her through it too. We weren’t good for one another at all.” He brushes Louis’s hair from his eyes, like he knows it’s gone all floppy even though he can’t properly see it. “But you know we’re nothing like that, right? Like, I was young and stupid and fighting for a relationship I didn’t really want to be in.”

“Been there, done that,” Louis chuckles darkly. “But that’s okay because we have each other now and I actually enjoy your company, which is a first.”

Harry moves in to kiss him, getting half nose and half lips, but Louis appreciates the gesture. 

“I can’t wait to do everything with you,” he whispers, like it’s a secret meant for the both of them only. “And yes, that means you fucking me and fingering me and all of that. I really want it.” He kisses him again. “I only haven’t initiated it yet because we kind of fell into this easy rhythm and it seemed to work. I want you to be so comfortable with just being naked and having mutual orgasms and…”

“God, Harry, I’ve already let you fuck me, you don’t need to get all deep about it,” Louis laughs, cutting him off. “I think we both know I enjoy and appreciate the mutual orgasms and being naked with you.”

Harry giggles, his hand stroking up and down Louis’s back. “Just checking.”

“But I appreciate you being slow and gentle and all that with me,” he says, because he doesn’t want Harry to feel at all unappreciated, not at all. It’s the opposite - he never thought he’d find someone like Harry, if he’s honest, so gentle and patient, and he was all ready to continue going through life preparing to be an old spinster. 

“God, Louis, you’ve already told me you love and appreciate me.” Harry mimics the same tone Louis had just used, and Louis sticks out his tongue at him, which ends up hitting Harry’s nose and they both dissolve into giggles. 

“You’re the worst.” He brings Harry’s arms tighter around his waist and cuddles into his front, pressing a kiss into his neck. Harry kisses him back for he rolls back over, snuggling back against his chest. 

“Go to sleep, lovely Louis,” he murmurs softly, kissing the palm of his hand. “We can talk some more about anal fingering in the morning.”

Louis nips at the back of Harry’s neck for that comment, but goes to sleep feeling a little lighter and feeling a lot excited about what’s to come. 

They don’t talk about it for a few days, their week hectic and tiring, and they barely even have the chance to have any kind of sex at all. Harry gets Louis off in the shower one night and then another they share tired, slightly rushed hand jobs in bed, but aside from that it’s lots of slow, sleepy snogging, both of them well aware they’re too tired to do anything more.

When their Monday rolls around, their one blissful day of freedom, Louis brings it up again.

Well, he doesn’t so much bring it up as blurt it out over the breakfast table, but it’s the thought that counts.

“Can I fuck you later?”

Harry near enough chokes on his Cheerios. He looks up at Louis with wide, surprised eyes and then makes a thoroughly unpleasant noise as one goes down the wrong way. He ends up chugging most of his cup of coffee before he can speak properly again. “Eh?”

“Um, can I fuck you later?” Louis says, half giggly and half sheepish. “Like, me on top.”

“Yes,” Harry rushes out, nodding like a madman. “Wow, Lou, I… yes. Sorry, it just caught me a bit off guard there. You didn’t bring it up again or anything.”

“And when, pray tell, would we have done it this past week between now and that conversation?”

“Good point,” Harry acquiesces. “Okay, um.” He looks rather giddy with excitement now he’s not choking to death on his breakfast. “Now or tonight or...?”

“Now,” Louis snorts into his own cereal. “I’m still eating my breakfast,  _ obviously  _ not now.”

“I’m so sorry, Your Highness,” Harry says with an eye roll. “Forgive me for being excited.”

He’s more excited than Louis anticipated, clearly, because after they’ve cleaned up Harry disappears into the bathroom for well over an hour, to the point where the hallway of the flat starts to fill with the shower steam. Louis might think he’d fallen over or gone to sleep in there if it weren’t for the fact he’s been belting out Fleetwood Mac songs for their entire time.

When he finally re-emerges, the whole flat has started smelling like his fancy tobacco body wash and he pokes his curly head through into the lounge, where Louis has an old episode of  _ Top Gear  _ on the telly that he’s not really watching. Naked and still a bit damp, he shuffles onto the sofa next to Louis and lies himself back so half his body is sprawled across him.

“Hello.”

“Hi, love.” Louis knows exactly what Harry is doing, but he pretends he doesn’t. He tucks a strand of hair behind Harry’s ear. “Good shower?”

“Mhmm,” Harry says, blinking up at him. “Very  _ thorough,  _ if you catch my drift.”

“It’s impossible not to catch your drift, darling.” Louis sits up a little higher, making it easier for Harry to sit more comfortably under his arm. “You really want this, huh?”

“I really do,” Harry agrees, looking gleeful. “I want everything with you, obviously, but this is something I  _ really  _ want.”

Louis kisses him. Their noses bump awkwardly as Louis surges forward, licking into Harry’s mouth with lust and urgency and a different kind of passion to normal. When they start kissing before sex Louis knows that he’s essentially surrending himself to Harry, that Harry is going to take the control and make Louis feel good. And in a way he hopes that continues, but there’s a part of him that wants to be the one in charge for a change, wants to make Harry fall apart under his hands and be solely focused on his pleasure. 

Harry deliberately starts to slow the kiss down, turning it into something slower and more sensual. His arms slide around Louis’s middle, shifting forward a little so their crotches are lined up. “Baby,” he says slowly, breaking the kiss, but keeping their mouths so close that Louis can still taste the mint on his breath. “Baby. No rush, yeah?”

“I’m not rushing,” Louis protests, which makes them both giggle because it’s a downright lie. “Okay, sorry. I’m just, like, nervous.”

Harry licks his lips, moving his hand down so he can link their fingers together. “Just you and me, yeah?” Louis nods. “You have, like… topped with someone before, right?

_ Barely.  _

“Yes,” he argues, indignant. “Why, do I strike you as that much of a bloody bottom?”

Harry giggles again. “No, babe, not at all. I just wondered why you were so nervous.”

“Because I want you to feel good,” Louis mumbles. He feels like such a  _ virgin  _ again. “And I just… if my ex didn’t like me doing it at all then I can’t have been very good.”

If Harry gets annoyed with Louis constantly bringing up Henry at times like this he doesn’t show it. Instead, he cups Louis’s face in his hands and stares at him intensely. “Your ex was a fool,” he says firmly. “Your ex was a prick and he isn’t  _ here _ , baby. You and me, yeah?” Louis nods. “You and me, and I can’t wait to do this. You have to see how much I want this, don’t you?”

“I do,” Louis nods, clutching at Harry’s arms like a desperate lifeline. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that I always bring up how, like, worried I feel before we do anything.”

Harry soothes him with his thumb, gently stroking over his face to lessen the worry lines. “I’d rather know,” he assures him. “Because soon we’ll hopefully get to a place where you’re wholly comfortable with everything. We’ll take it slow and do it when you’re ready, yeah?”

“I still want to do this,” Louis whispers, because he really fucking does. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m nervous, but I want this. I want it so much.”

Harry nods. “Shall we move to the bedroom, get comfy and ready in there?”

Louis nods and follows Harry into the bedroom, where they do end up spending the best part of the next half hour just making out. Their hands wander each other’s bodies and they let themselves get hard just from this, and it’s languid and slow and everything Louis needs it to be, really. It’s easy not to think too much when he’s kissing Harry like this, that’s for sure. 

When Harry breaks the kiss he looks a mess - there’s sweat gathering at his temples, his hair is matted and hanging limply against his shoulders from where he keeps pushing it away, and his lips are kiss-bitten and swollen, bright red and cracked. He pushes his hair back from his face again and leans back, cocking his head towards their bedside table. 

“Can I get the lube?” 

Louis nods hurriedly, shuffling to the side so Harry can grab their lube and a condom. Harry places both on the pillow and Louis is quick to push him onto his back and straddle him, resting back on Harry’s strong thighs and resting his hands low on Harry’s stomach. 

“Do you want me to open you or do you want to do it?”

“I want you to kiss me first,” Harry says, coaxing him forward so they’re making out again. Louis goes easily, boxing Harry in with hands either side of his head, and they gently start to fuck against each other as their crotches line up. 

“Fuck,” Harry moans, mouth dropping open as Louis rolls his hips up experimentally. “Shit, that feels so good.”

“Uh-huh,” Louis laughs breathily. He can feel himself getting more worked up by the second. “God, you’re beautiful like this. So fucking pretty.”

Harry preens and licks his lips, a shaky hand reaching behind for the lube bottle. “I want you to do it.”

Louis takes the lube and nods. “Okay. Guide me through it?”

“Of course,” Harry assures him, giving his thigh a squeeze. “First of all, get off me.”

“Dickhead,” Louis mutters, but he doesn’t really mean it. He clambers off Harry and Harry shuffles up the bed a bit before he rolls over onto his belly and raises his arse up in the air, so his legs are spread and he’s propped up on his knees. 

“Just have a feel, if you need to,” he encourages, which feels like a ridiculous request in Louis’s head, but he appreciates why he’s saying it. It’s maddening to him that Harry trusts him enough to bare his most vulnerable spot to Louis without worry, but then again Louis supposes he’s done the same to Harry, just in a way that’s less comically in his face, so to speak. 

Louis leans forward and kisses each of Harry’s buttocks, running a hand over the skin of the small of his back. He smells sweaty and musky, with a hint of tobacco from his soap. His skin is milky pale and soft to the touch, the warmth familiar under his hands by now. 

He leans back and pulls Harry’s cheeks apart, watching Harry’s hole flutter and twitch. “You okay?” he croaks. He doesn’t know where his voice has gone. “Can I touch?”

“I’d like for you to eventually put your cock in there,” Harry mutters, and Louis doesn’t have to see his face to know he’s smirking. “Yes, baby, you can touch.”

Louis digs his teeth into the meat of Harry’s arse as he brushes two fingers over it, not quite pressing inside but definitely putting pressure there. “You’re gonna be tight,” he murmurs, a little awed at the thought that his dick will be _ in there _ in a few minutes. While he isn’t as blessed in length as Harry, he’s definitely thicker so he worries he’ll have to stretch him more. 

“That’s okay,” Harry says, clenching against Louis’s fingertips. “We’ll go slow, I promise.”

And they do. Louis is very generous with the lube as he works his fingers in, ever so slowly, working up from one to two to three with care. He takes his time with it, being very generous with the lube and, as Harry had suggested, taking the time to feel Harry’s body, to listen out for all the little sounds he makes, what makes him feel good and what makes him feel  _ better,  _ all the while making sure he’s stretching him nice and open, that this is for both pleasure and preparation. 

When he finds Harry’s prostate with his fingers, the noise Harry makes is incredible, raw and animalistic. His hole clenches even tighter around him and gets it - he gets why Harry loves doing this to him so much even though it’s not directly for his pleasure. Watching the man he loves so much react like this to his touch,  _ trusting  _ him with the most intimate part of him, is something he doesn't think he could ever tire of. 

He wants to make Harry fall apart like this every single day.

He rolls the condom one clumsily - it’s been a long time since he’s worn one - and gives his dick a few quick tugs to take the edge off. He’s definitely not going to last that long, he’s sure of it, and he tells Harry that. 

Harry lets out a breathy chuckle. “Me neither,” he grunts. “Don’t care. Please fuck me.”

Louis shuffles forward and starts to press himself inside. 

It’s white hot heat, it’s an intensity that he wasn’t prepared for, a feeling of pure ecstasy that he didn’t think was possible. Both of them let out moans of pure pleasure as Louis pushes further, deeper, slow as he dares. 

“You okay?” he winces, quivering with the intensity of it all. He strokes his hand across Harry’s sweaty back. “Haz?”

“Just a second,” Harry moans softly, head tilted forward as he takes the time to adjust. “Fuck, you’re big.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Louis chuckles wetly. “Are you okay?”

“Uh-huh,” Harry says after a few long seconds. “You can move.”

Louis pulls out and then slowly presses back in, keeping the pace gentle as Harry adjusts. It’s been a long time since Louis has done the fucking, but it strikes him he never asked Harry how long it’s been for him. 

They carry on at this pace for a good while, Louis’s hands tight on Harry’s hips as he keeps fucking him. He slips out of Harry a couple of times, still trying to adjust to the rhythm, but pretty soon Harry is sinking further into the mattress, his legs trembling and lots of gorgeous little noises leaving his mouth on every thrust, his hand working over his cock. 

He misses seeing Harry’s face though, so the next time he accidentally falls out of Harry’s hole he makes the move to manoeuvre Harry over, coaxing him onto his back easily. Harry is pliant in his hands and their lips immediately meet again before Louis slowly feeds his cock back inside him. Harry’s back arches off the bed as he pushes back inside, his nails digging in and leaving scratches on Louis’s back. 

“Holy  _ fuck.” _

It’s different, so different, to fuck him at this angle. Harry’s head is thrown back against the pillows and his arms can’t seem to find purchase on Louis’s body, losing purchase with every thrust. Louis kisses him where and when he can but for the most part their foreheads rest together, sharing air as they look into each other’s eyes. 

Louis doesn’t feel like he needs guidance anymore, not with the way Harry seems to be less in control than ever. He never expected it to have this effect on Harry but fucking hell, does Harry look  _ ethereal  _ as he gets fucked, eyes glassy and mouth slack, the hottest noises coming from it the more Louis fucks him. 

Louis wasn’t wrong when he said it wasn’t going to take much for him to come. His orgasm has been building from the start, so turned on just by the idea that he knew it wouldn’t take much, but it takes him by surprise when he does suddenly come, hips jerking as and back arching as he does. He keeps himself pressed deep inside Harry’s body as he rides it out. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I thought I had more in me, I really did.”

“Stay in me,” Harry begs as his hand speeds up, wanking himself off until he stutters out a cry of Louis’s name before he spurts all over the sheets. 

They both topple down onto the mattress in sync, Louis still inside Harry as he wraps his arms around his waist, kissing his shoulder. 

“Fuck,” Louis breathes, desperate to kiss Harry. “Let me pull out so I can kiss you.” 

Harry whimpers and whines as he pulls out, his wet cock making a slapping noise as it falls out of Harry’s hole. He ties the condom with clumsy fingers and drops it over the side of the bed before he pulls Harry back into him. They kiss lazily for a bit, both still riding the high from their orgasms and both craving the closeness that kissing brings. 

They’re lying right in the middle of Harry’s jizz puddle, but if Louis couldn’t give a fuck he can’t imagine Harry does. 

“How was it for you?” he asks Harry nervously once their kisses have slowed down to lazy, gentle pecks. 

“Horrible,” Harry sprawls sarcastically. “Miserable. I hated it.” Louis pinches him. “Jesus, Louis,  _ ow.” _ He pouts at him. “I just jizzed all over our bed, did that not tell you how much I liked it?”

“Just like to hear it,” Louis admits softly, thumbing over Harry’s hipbone. “That was, like, different for me but it felt good. Really good. Like, phenomenally good.”

“Mhm,” Harry hums. “Your dick is so thick, it’s incredible. I love feeling full like that.” His eyes sparkle as he grins even wider. “Oh my god, I’m gonna ride you next time. I bet that feels  _ incredible. _ ”

Louis chuckles and kisses him again. “I don’t know why I ever worry with you,” he admits quietly. “Not when it always turns out like that. Fuck, I love it. I love you.”

“I love you,” Harry grins back dopily, linking their fingers together. “And I would like to propose we do it more often like that. Because you being that deep inside me and just feeling close to you like that just… yes. Ten out of ten.”

“You flatter me.” Louis nuzzles his face happily into Harry’s neck. He could very easily fall asleep like this. 

“God, you’ve knackered me out,” Harry murmurs, eyes flitting closed, as if he heard Louis’s thoughts. “I’ll tell you, the tiredness you feel from being fucked is a totally different kind of tiredness.”

“Don’t I know it?” Louis grins. “You hungry?”

Harry nods, still not opening his eyes. “I could eat.”

“I’ll UberEats us something,” Louis says, kissing Harry’s sweaty forehead before peeling back the duvet and shuffling naked into the living room to locate his phone. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror in the hallway and he almost does a double take at his reflection - there’s scratch marks and love bites all over his chest and neck, and when he turns to look at his back there’s even harsher, longer scratch marks on there.

He’ll be damned if this isn’t the hottest he’s ever felt. 

Grabbing his phone, he heads straight back to the bedroom and flips onto the bed next to Harry. 

“You have a lot of explaining to do, Mr Styles.”

Harry’s eyes fly open, alarmed. “Huh?”

“Look at the state of me,” Louis shrills. “Look at how injured I am from your needy, greedy mitts.” He waves his forearm where there’s a particularly deep scratch in front of Harry’s face, so close he goes a bit cross-eyes. “Look. Injured.”

Harry just grins up at him. “You kinda like it though, don’t you? You  _ so  _ do, you’re grinning.” He pokes Louis playfully. “Just as kinky as me.”

“Well, I mean, I would be lying if I said I didn’t think it’s quite hot, being marked by you like this.” Louis rolls over so he can cup Harry’s face and kiss him properly. “But I’m still definitely not as kinky as you.  _ Stay in me while I come, yeah.” _

“Shut the fuck up,” Harry shrieks, flushing red and pushing Louis away. “Nasty boy.”

“Come here,” Louis laughs, pulling Harry back and kissing him again and again. “Don’t pout or I won’t order you any dinner.”

It’s an empty threat, of course. Louis places an order for an obscene amount of food from a local dessert shop and when it arrives there’s too much of it to fit on the coffee table. 

“Jesus Christ, Louis,” Harry says, staring at it all with wide eyes. “You have more money than sense, I swear to god.”

Louis, who is quite happily already tucked in the corner of Harry’s sofa with a giant bowl of cookie dough in his lap, just flips him off. “Shut up and eat before your ice cream melts, idiot.”

“You’re an idiot,” Harry tuts, but sits down next to him and reaches for his own food. “This is so you, you know, topping me for the first time before ordering dessert for dinner.”

Louis scowls. “Dick. Honestly, the fact you don’t love sweet food as much as savoury food could be a deal breaker for me.”

“Nah,” Harry says. “I like ice cream as much as the next person, just not for dinner. I don’t think that’s unusual.”

“You’re wrong,” Louis says, moving his now empty bowl aside so he can start on his cheesecake. “They’ve gone all out with yours. Ice cream, banana, cherries, the whole nine yards.”

“Yeah, but,” Harry says, waggling his eyebrows as he scoops a huge spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. “After today I think it’s safe to say I prefer other... _ toppings _ .”

Louis throws a chocolate chip at his head for that one.

*

The day Louis gets the call that changes everything starts like a normal Tuesday. 

After a lazy (and tragically Harry-less) morning, he gets ready to head into the theatre in the mid-afternoon. He’s got some leftover curry heating in the microwave so he can scarf down a half-lunch, half-dinner meal before he heads out, but just as the microwave beeps his phone starts to ring. 

It’s Jeff, his agent. 

Louis and Jeff don’t speak a lot because in all honesty they don’t need to. Louis has been consistently fairly lucky with regards to being offered roles that last a good amount of time and they pay well enough that he doesn’t have to worry about having work every week of every year. This year he was even planning on taking a break over Christmas for the first time in years because his pay cheque from  _ The Book of Mormon  _ will let him do so comfortably. 

Having said that, Louis does know he needs to start looking at life after this show, which is kind of a terrifying prospect. He’s spoken to Ben about staying on as Elder Price if the show returns next year for another season, which it looks like it will, and it’s definitely something he’d be more than happy to do. 

He presses  _ Accept  _ on the phone call, assuming Jeff is just calling for a catch up, but he isn’t. 

“Hey Jeff lad,” he greets, pressing the button to stop the microwave before it beeps. “How’s it going?”

“Hey Lou,” Jeff replies and even through the phone Louis can tell he’s smiling. “I’d ask you how you’re doing but I think I’m about to make your day ten times better.”

“Yeah?” Louis stops what he’s doing and leans back against the counter, something akin to nerves settling in his stomach. “You got me an audition somewhere?”

“Oh, I didn’t do anything,” Jeff says gleefully. “But I did get an email from the personal assistant of one Lord Andrew Lloyd Webber. Have you heard of him?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Louis gulps. “Shut the actual fuck up.” He can’t  _ breathe _ . “What for?”

“How do you feel about potentially auditioning for  _ Joseph and his Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat _ ?”

Louis’s jaw drops to the floor. “Shut the fuck  _ up.  _ Jesus Christ. Yes. Which role?”

“Louis,” Jeff says slowly, pausing for suspense, “The Lloyd Webber team reached out and personally requested that you audition for the role of Joseph.”

“Shut the fuck…”

“Just tell me yes so I can book it in,” Jeff laughs, and Louis can easily envision him shaking his head. “I mean, I was going to do it anyway but I wanted to check dates with you.”

“Any date you like,” Louis rushes out, feeling giddy as fuck already. He’s got a specially requested audition for the role of his dreams, he wouldn’t miss it for the world. 

“It’s the last Sunday in August,” Jeff tells him. Louis hears him tapping away on the keys of his laptop. “Do you have a show that day?”

“That’s… oh my god, that’s literally perfect,” Louis says, astounded. He was all prepared to call in sick and have Harry lie for him at work, but this is  _ fate.  _ “We’re away until Friday that week because we have a break and then I’m not back in the theatre until Tuesday.” 

“Perfect,” Jeff echoes, then there’s more typing and clicking before he goes, “Right. You’re booked in for an audition that day. Congratulations, mate.”

“I think I might cry,” Louis says honestly, because this feels so surreal and he doesn’t think he’s properly processed it. Andrew Lloyd Webber, legend of the West End and the creator of so many iconic musicals including  _ Phantom of the Opera, Cats  _ and  _ Jesus Christ Superstar,  _ knows who he is and requested that he audition for the latest production of one of his most iconic shows. 

He literally might burst into tears here and now. 

“Don’t cry,” Jeff says with a laugh. “Embrace it, revel in it, process it and  _ enjoy  _ it, dude. You’ve earned this.”

“Haven’t got the role yet,” Louis chuckles. 

“Yeah, well,” Jeff says. “I have every faith in you. Keep an eye on your emails because I’ll shoot you over any more information I get sent, yeah?”

“Cheers Jeff, you’re the best,” Louis grins. He hangs up the call and tosses his phone to the side, taking a few moments to just compose himself and let it all sink in. 

Andrew Lloyd Fucking Webber. 

With shaky fingers, he reaches for his phone and dials Harry’s number. 

Harry doesn’t answer, of course he doesn’t - he’s at  _ bloody work  _ \- so he rings Lottie, who works from home, and shrieks with her for ten minutes instead. She almost sounds like she could cry too with how much she keeps cheering and congratulating him. He promises her opening night tickets if he does get the role and then realises how late he actually is, so he scarfs down his now lukewarm curry and rushes to the Tube station to get to work on time. 

When he gets to his dressing room, Niall is already there and he’s barely inside before he blurts it out. 

“Niall, I need to tell you something.”

Niall’s eating a sandwich and it freezes halfway to his mouth. 

“If you and Harry have broken up I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“What?” Louis blanches. “No.”

“Oh thank god.” Niall sags in his chair dramatically before he throws a hula hoop at him. “Don’t fucking scare me like that.”

“You made the assumption,” Louis fires back, shaking his head. “Listen. I need to tell you something, but please don’t tell anyone, not even Leigh.”

“Yeah, course,” Niall nods, shifting in his seat. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Louis admits, unable to stop the grin spreading over his face. “I, um. I got an audition for another show.”

Niall scowls at him. “Fuck you,” he says cheerily, then takes another massive bite out of his sandwich. “You leaving me?”

“Niall,” Louis says again. “Andrew Lloyd Webber contacted my agent directly and asked me to audition for Joseph.”

Niall gapes at him. “No fucking way,” he says excitedly. “What role?”

“Joseph,” Louis says, biting his lip. “Like actual Joseph in  _ Joseph. _ ”

“Shut the fuck up.” Niall discards his sandwich onto his dressing table and claps his hands. “That’s fucking _ awesome,  _ holy shit.”

“I know.” Louis still can’t get over it and even saying it out loud doesn’t make it sound any more real. “I can’t bloody believe it, Ni, honestly.”

“And he reached out to you specifically?” Niall looks as in awe as Louis feels. “Fucking hell, mate. I can’t believe I’m standing in a room with the future Joseph.”

“I mean, it’s only an audition,” he says with a shrug. “I might not even make it to callbacks.”

“When are callbacks?” Niall asks.

Louis pulls his phone out his pocket and scrolls through it for the email Jeff had sent over while he was on the Tube. “Um. Oh shit. Literally the same day. First audition is in the morning, then we break for lunch and then we have another round in the afternoon.”

“Runs a tight ship, Lloyd Webber does,” Niall hums. “What did Harry say when you told him?”

Louis looks sheepish. “I, um, haven’t yet?”

“ _ What _ ?” 

“He’s been here all morning,” Louis shrugs. “I tried to call him, but I couldn’t get through.”

“And you told me before him?” Niall throws a balled up napkin at him. “Fucking go and find him right now.”

“His lunch break starts in ten minutes,” Louis says. “He’ll come here like always.”

“Ah.” Niall gives him a knowing look and picks his sandwich back up. “I’ll make myself scarce then, shall I?”

“To where?” Louis snorts, then there’s a knock on the door as if on cue. Niall shoves the last corner of his sandwich into his mouth and goes to answer it. 

It’s Harry, of course.

“Hey,” he greets Niall warmly. “Is Louis in here?

“Hi, love,” Louis calls, stepping into view. Niall opens the door just enough for Harry to squeeze in through and then offers them a wave. 

“I’m off to call Hailee,” he says with a wink, then leaves without another word.

Harry looks confused for a second before he shrugs and then turns to Louis, greeting him with a quick kiss. “Hey, baby. Did you call me earlier?”

Louis bites his lip as he nods. “Um, yeah.” He takes both of Harry’s hands in his. “So I have some news.”

“Yeah?” Harry squeezes his hands. “Good news, I hope?”

“Um. Pretty fucking amazing news, if I’m being completely honest.” Harry raises an eyebrow. “I got a call from my agent today.”

“Ooh, an audition? I didn’t think you wanted another audition?” Harry asks. “I thought you wanted to renew your contract here?”

“I did, but…” Louis can’t help but grin. He doesn’t think he’s going to get tired of telling people about this any time soon. “Andrew Lloyd Webber has apparently reached out directly and asked for me to audition to be the next Joseph.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Harry’s jaw practically hits the floor. “You shut the fuck up right now, you  _ brilliant _ little fucker.”

Louis laughs as Harry sweeps him up in his arms, his feet lifting off the ground with the force of the hug. He wraps his arms around Harry’s neck and squeezes, laughing even harder as Harry starts to pepper kisses all over his face.

“You’re…”  _ Kiss.  _ “So…”  _ Kiss.  _ “Fucking…”  _ Kiss.  _ “Incredible.”  _ Kiss.  _ Harry puts him down and cups his face, staring down at him with such a look of pride that Louis wants to squirm away. And this is  _ before  _ he’s even had the audition,  _ god.  _ Louis can only imagine (and kind of long for) the reaction he’ll get if he does get the role. “I’m so fucking proud of you, holy shit. He reached out? He reached out for you to audition specifically?”

“I know right,” Louis beams. “Andrew Lloyd Webber knows who I am. He’s probably been to see me perform and I didn’t know and he wants me. He  _ wants  _ me, Harry.”

“When’s the audition?”

“The Sunday after we get back from our holiday,” Louis explains. “Callbacks are on the same day because it’s not even held in a theatre, it’s at the private offices on his estate in the Cotswolds.”

“Jesus Christ,” Harry gapes. “Are you sure he’s not trying to kidnap you?”

Louis giggles and wraps his arms around Harry’s middle. “Why, you jealous? You worried I’m gonna leave you for him?”

“He is a millionaire,” Harry chuckles. He presses a kiss onto Louis’s forehead then leans in to whisper in his ear. “Do you think he’d do that thing with his tongue that you like so much?”

“Ewww, you’re  _ foul. _ ” Louis pushes him away. “He’s also like 90 and kind of short. I couldn’t even consider dating someone shorter than me.”

“I’m flattered,” Harry says dryly. “Plus, when you get the role I guess he’s kind of going to be your boss? Kind of?”

“ _ If  _ I get the role,” Louis corrects. “I only found out about it like two hours ago.”

“When,” Harry repeats firmly. “Can’t believe I’m shagging the future Joseph.”

“ _ If.”  _ Louis rolls his eyes. “Anyway, this is a secret, obviously. I’ve only told Lottie and Niall and it’s staying that way until, you know, I find out.”

Harry pouts at him. “You told  _ two  _ people before you told me?”

Louis pinches his nipple playfully. “I did try and call you first.”

“When you know I’m working,” Harry tuts. “When you hear that you’ve gotten the role you better tell me first.”

“ _ If, _ ” Louis all but shouts. “Stop jinxing it, dickhead.”

“Whatever, I’m just so proud and happy,” Harry says dreamily. “Like, I’ll miss working with you loads, of course, but this is awesome.”

“I know, I’ll miss that too,” Louis says, already feeling a bit forlorn about the prospect. It’s a no brainer to take the role if he’s offered it, but then doesn’t mean he won’t be sad to leave Harry and Niall and Leigh and the rest of the team behind. “And the good thing is I can stay in this role if I don’t get Joseph. Like I’m not out of a job and I still get Christmas off, so it’s kind of a win-win.”

“Can I see the spec?” Harry asks. Louis nods and pulls his phone out his pocket, showing Harry the email from Jeff. “Louis, this looks… fuck, it looks fucking incredible.” He hands Louis back the phone. “Do you know what your audition song will be yet?”

“Well, as it happens my audition song for this role was  _ Close Every Door, _ ” Louis admits. “I’m not sure I wanna audition with that, but I’m not sure a song from here is appropriate at all?”

“Maybe not,” Harry shrugs. “I’m sure you know every word to a thousand songs that’ll work though.” He grins again, leaning in to kiss the frown of worry from Louis’s face. “Hey. Don’t even worry about it yet, you’ve got ages to decide.”

“I know,” Louis says, chewing on his thumbnail. “It’s just, like, a lot of pressure, you know? If I get this role, this could really catapult my career to, like, a whole new level that I don’t know if I’m ready for.”

There’s a pause and then…

“ _ When _ ,” Harry says again quickly, then winces as Louis slaps him in the dick this time.

He was  _ definitely _ asking for that one.

*

Their August break is probably one of the best weeks of Louis’s life. 

Eight days of bliss starts on the Monday morning, where despite the fact that Louis could really do with the lie in, they get on the road for 8am and head up to the AirBnB that Harry booked as a surprise up in Yorkshire. It’s roughly a four-hour drive so Harry takes the wheel for the bulk of it while Louis flits between blaring shit music to try and keep him awake and dozing in the passenger seat. They stop for a Full English breakfast and a strong mug of tea each in a cute little cafe on the side of the motorway and, once they get closer to their destination, they find a Sainsbury’s to get some food and drinks for the week.

Their trip around the supermarket mostly involves Louis putting loads of snack food in their trolley while Harry tries to make actual sensible meal choices, but Louis calls him a curly haired cunt and jabs him in his cheek dimple with the corner of his credit card when he tries to remove the 12-pack of Krispy Kreme doughnuts and put them back on the shelf.

“Doughnuts or I’m driving home,” he snaps. He doesn’t mean to be so irritable, he really doesn’t, but he’s hungry and tired and wants to be there already. “My card, my choices.”

“Lou,” Harry says scoldingly, rolling his eyes, but he does as he’s told and puts the doughnuts back into the trolley. “We don’t need 12 doughnuts.”

“Speak for yourself,” Louis says haughtily, hands on hips. “My card, my choices.” He smiles up at Harry, sickeningly sweet. “If you let me have the doughnuts, maybe I’ll let us have sex on this trip.”

Harry snorts. “Thanks. I book us a lovely holiday home, drive us four hours up here, and my boyfriend  _ might  _ decide he wants to have sex with me.”

Louis pats him on the chest in a patronising way. “Good boy. Glad you’ve learned how it works around here.” And then, just to be a shit, he strides a few steps away from Harry and yells, “oh, darling, we  _ must  _ get some condoms and lube.  _ Extra  _ large for you, of course.”

Harry’s face doesn’t stop being red for the rest of their walk around the shop.

When they finally arrive, it’s started to rain a bit. The drive through the woods to get to their cabin had been bumpy and grey and long, but as they got closer the trees had suddenly cleared and made way for a row of wood cabins, each with a thatched roof, a cute front porch with a table and seats on it and just enough space between each one to give something of an illusion of privacy. Louis grins at his boyfriend, squeezing his hand where it rests on the gearstick.

“This is so adorable. You’re so adorable.”

“I’ve always wanted to stay in a cabin like this,” Harry tells him happily. “Ours has a private hot tub around the back as well.  _ And  _ a waterbed.”

“Ooh, I have  _ always _ wanted to have sex on a waterbed,” Louis beams. This is going to be a  _ great  _ few days. “Thank you for bringing me here. You did good, sunshine.”

Harry snorts. “You’re welcome, even though you haven’t seen it yet. You might hate it.”

“Nah,” Louis shrugs. “Reckon you could bring me anywhere on a cute couple’s retreat and I’d love it. The waterbed and the hot tub are a happy bonus though.”

He doesn’t hate it, of course. By the time they get inside their cabin it’s started raining quite heavily, so they both hurry inside, Louis with both their suitcases and Harry with all the food. The door opens into a large, open-plan room with a kitchen on one side and a living space on the other. There’s a large flat-screen telly mounted on one wall and the back wall is one huge window with a sliding door, which leads out onto their decking where their hot tub sits. 

It’s picture perfect and Louis is so, so smitten - by this cabin and by the man who’s brought him here.

“I love it,” he tells Harry again, dropping the suitcases on the floor and rushing over to pull Harry in for a hug. “You’re an absolute gem for bringing me here and I love it and I love you.”

Harry joins their lips together, smiling into the kiss. “That’s okay, lovely Louis,” he hums once they pull apart. “You deserve this.  _ We  _ deserve this.”

“We do,” Louis agrees, kissing him again. “Shall we put the food away and then go and test out this waterbed?”

Harry kisses him one last time and then breaks their hug, chuckling. “Test it out for sleeping or for shagging?”

“Either,” Louis says, waggling his eyebrows. “Both of those sound appealing in their own way.”

“What time is it?” Harry calls from the kitchen as he starts unloading their food into the fridge.

“Coming up to one.”

“Shall we nap, then I’ll cook us some dinner and we can try out the hot tub?” he suggests.

“Perfect,” Louis nods. “I’ll take our things upstairs and start warming up the bed.”

“Warming up the bed,” Harry snorts. “Yeah, alright.”

Louis runs over and smacks Harry’s bum, dodging the smack that threatens to come back his way in retaliation. He laughs the whole way upstairs to the bedroom.

There’s only two rooms upstairs - a bedroom and a bathroom - and both are incredible. Louis pokes his head into the bathroom and grins when he sees there’s a whirlpool bath and a one of those showers with multiple heads as well as your standard toilet and sink. There’s loads of light coming in from a skylight above his head and the sound of the rain pit-pattering against it makes Louis’s heart happy.

He moves onto the bedroom next and he almost gasps out loud when he sees it because it’s so bloody  _ perfect.  _ The bed is massive, with rust coloured sheets and loads of decorative pillows and a furry blanket across the bottom and, like the room downstairs, the back wall is all one window, with a door on the right hand side that leads them out onto a balcony that overlooks a lake. 

Louis dumps the suitcases in the corner of the room and heads over to the door, unlocking it and stepping out despite the rain. It’s lovely and private up here and while you can see the chimneys and roofs of the other cabins, they can’t see you because of the thick trees in between each property. It’s lovely and secluded and Louis thinks he might just have to give Harry a blow job on this balcony as a thank you for bringing them here.

He walks back inside and closes the door, shaking the wetness from his hair like a dog might. He strips off his t-shirt and kicks off his shoes, and he’s just untying his trackies when Harry appears up the stairs.

“Your hair is wet,” he says.

“Yeah, I went out on the balcony,” Louis says, pulling his trackies and boxers down in one movement. He scrunches them up and chucks them towards the suitcases, grinning as Harry glares at him. “We’re on holiday, baby, don’t pout at me like that.”

“Just fold them up, arsehole,” Harry says, then pulls off his own t-shirt and folds it dramatically. “See? Was that so hard?”

“Harder than kicking them over to the corner was,” Louis mutters. He shuffles towards the bed and pulls back the duvet, then slides under it and lets out a long, happy sigh. “Oh my god, this is bliss.”

Harry pads over and joins him a couple of moments later, sliding in behind him and pulling their bodies flush. Louis cuddles into him and nuzzles his nose into Harry’s warm shoulder, hooking their legs together and giggling as the bed sways.

“I feel like this is going to be weird to have sex on.”

“Only one way to find out,” Harry chuckles, kissing Louis’s neck. “But later, yeah? Just wanna hold you for a bit and nap that long drive away.”

As much as Louis is loathed to waste a day of holiday just sleeping, he has to admit that a nap in Harry’s arms sounds mighty appealing. “Yeah,” he mumbles, voice already heavy with sleep. “Love you.”

“Love you,” Harry parrots, then both of them are out like lights, warm and cosy in each other’s arms while the rain pitter-patters against the window.

When Louis wakes up a couple of hours later, the sun is out and high in the sky. He blinks himself awake, taking in his new surroundings, then he’s suddenly very aware of how much he needs a wee. He wiggles reluctantly out of Harry’s warm hold and shuffles towards the bathroom, where he has a quick wee and then splashes some cold water on his face, then he pads back towards the bedroom, smiling to himself softly as he takes in Harry’s sleeping form.

He contemplates crawling back into bed with him, cuddling into him and maybe kissing him awake, maybe even waking him up with a blowie, but he refrains because it’s Harry’s holiday too and he deserves the rest just as much, if not more than Louis does, so he leaves him and heads downstairs to make himself a cup of tea instead.

He sets the kettle to boil and opens the first cupboard, reaching for the small box of his favourite tea that Harry picked up for him in Sainsbury’s. He grins all the way through making it, already excited for Harry to wake up and cuddle him while he drinks it, when he hears the familiar sound of Harry’s footsteps upstairs. It goes quiet for a couple of moments and then he hears the toilet flush before Harry starts clip-clopping down the stairs.

“You left me,” he pouts dramatically, moving straight into the kitchen and wrapping an arm around Louis’s middle, yawning into his free hand. “Bed was tragically empty when I woke up.”

“Sorry, sunshine,” Louis says, cuddling him in. “Want a hot drink?”

“Tea,” Harry nods, kissing the top of Louis’s head. “Thank you.”

Louis nods and sets about sorting another cup; milk and one sugar, just as Harry likes it. Harry’s already padded over to the sofa, sprawling out across the whole thing naked as the day he was born. Louis snorts as he brings the drinks over, setting them on the coffee table before he clambers on top of him, clinging to him awkwardly as Harry arranges them so they’re not going to fall off.

“Graceful as ever.”

“I’m on holiday,” Harry tuts. “The only person watching me try and be graceful is the person who just climbed on top of me with no warning. Plus, that person loves me and doesn’t care if I’m graceful.”

“It’s true,” Louis agrees, then to punctuate his point he sticks a finger up each of Harry’s nostrils. The face he pulls as a result is ridiculously comical. “Wow, she  _ is  _ beauty and she’s grace.”

“Shut up,” Harry grumbles. He licks Louis’s cheek. “Why are you so weird and annoying?”

“Why are  _ you  _ so weird and annoying?” Louis fires back. “Why are we having the dumbest conversation of our lives? We could be shagging, we could be in the hot tub, you could be rubbing my feet…”

“Do you wanna have sex on the waterbed?” Harry offers. 

“Yes,” Louis says merrily, because he really does, but… “But after I’ve had my tea though. I really am a thirsty boy.”

And  _ just  _ to be a shit, he makes a point of drinking his tea extremely slowly, slurping at it loudly and blinking at Harry coyly over the rim of the mug.

“I’m gonna go tug myself off,” Harry groans after about ten minutes of this charade. “I literally fucking hate you.”

“You hate me?” Louis says, blinking again.  _ Slurp.  _ “Can we still have hate sex?”

“Hate sex,” Harry snorts. “Yeah, right.” He moves close to Louis and rests their foreheads together, sliding a warm hand up Louis’s bare thigh. “You think you’d be able to come without telling me you love me?”

Louis’s breath hitches. “Sure I would.”

“Really?” Harry’s breath is warm against his cheek as he flicks his tongue out to catch a stray drop of tea on Louis’s chin. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

The second Louis’s cup is empty Harry is dragging him towards the stairs. Louis laughs as he’s practically carried towards the bedroom before he’s tossed onto the bed and Harry clambers on top of him, giggling with him as the whole bed sways. 

“Sex on here is going to be an interesting experience,” Harry murmurs. His eyes go wide for a second. “Hang on, let me grab the stuff.”

“Stuff?” Louis asks, indignant to have Harry break away from him for even a second. “Oh, stuff.”

“Stuff,” Harry repeats, rifling in the front pocket of his duffel bag for their lube and a condom. He scrambles back onto the bed and drops them next to Louis’s head, grinning as Louis knocks him forward with the back of his foot so they’re nose to nose again. 

“Can we do something?” Louis asks, hand cupping Harry’s neck. Harry nods. “Wanna fuck my mouth?”

Harry’s breath hitches. They’ve not done this yet because even a blow job can affect Louis’s voice and throat, which he obviously needs for work, but this is something Louis has been thinking about rather a lot, the idea of Harry fucking his throat, just holding his head in place and  _ using _ him to get off. 

He looks at Harry with wide, almost nervous eyes. Harry nods frantically and smashes their mouths together. 

“Yes, fuck, absolutely,” he says as he pulls back. “How do you want me?”

Louis thinks for a second. “I can get on my knees,” he suggests. “Or I could sit against the headboard and you could position yourself, like, over me?”

“Shit yes, let’s do that.” Harry leans back on his haunches as Louis positions himself, giving his dick a few sharp tugs so he’s halfway to hard. Louis eyes it carefully and works to relax his jaw so he can open it wide, then when he’s ready he grunts for Harry to shuffle forward. 

Harry moves forward on his knees, boxing Louis in so he’s completely at his mercy, unable to move away if he wants to. He moves his hands back so Louis can take hold of his dick and carefully guide it into his mouth. He starts slow, a kiss to the tip and a couple of experimental kitten licks before he hollows his cheeks and starts to take it deeper. 

The stretch is a little heavy at first, but they go slow, and soon Louis has worked up to a steady, manageable rhythm. Harry’s hands are clasped behind his back so Louis has complete control right now, but he’s ready for more. He pulls off and looks up at him, blinking coyly. 

“I’m ready.”

Harry leans forward further as Louis takes his cock back in his mouth. He gives Louis a few seconds to adjust to the stretch again and then moves his head back for him before bringing him forward, and Louis just lets his mouth be  _ used _ . Harry’s hands cup his face as he moves him back and forth, back and forth, taking his dick as deep into this throat as he can.

It feels  _ incredible.  _

Tears start to pool in his eyes and his jaw starts to ache, but as he looks up at Harry with his wide, wet eyes he knows he can’t stop, doesn’t  _ want  _ to stop. Harry looks blissed out in a way Louis hasn’t seen him look before, eyes unseeing as he just thrusts back and forth erratically. Louis briefly wonders if it’s because he’s always so focused on Louis’s pleasure rather than his own.

His thighs start to tremble and he makes the move to pull back. Louis makes a sputtering noise as the cock is ripped from his mouth and then suddenly there’s strings of jizz painting his nose and lips. Harry keeps stroking himself until he’s milked himself dry. Once he’s done he teeters forward a little, his knees buckling as he reaches Louis and slams their mouths together. 

Harry tastes like sweat and tea and  _ Louis,  _ and there’s something unique and rather tantalising about tasting himself as Harry licks into his mouth and presses him back down onto his back. Louis spreads his legs for Harry to slot between and they roll around the mattress, moving onto their sides as they kiss for a bit so Harry has the chance to get hard again.

“Still wanna?”

Louis nods, already reaching for the lube. He’s still a little open from last night, where they’d fucked hurriedly after coming home from the theatre, Louis leaving marks on Harry’s chest and shoulders as they worked out their adrenaline highs with one another. 

They’re insatiable,  _ honestly.  _

Harry slides a finger inside Louis easily. He still takes his sweet time opening Louis up but that’s nothing that Louis didn’t expect because Harry could spend  _ hours  _ playing with Louis’s arse if he let him, but today he works up to three careful fingers, scissoring them to make sure he’s ready.

When he deems Louis prepped enough, he rolls Louis back onto his side, coming up behind him and rubbing his cock up and down from Louis’s crack to his hole, teasing. Louis lifts his leg and whines. 

“Fuck me,” he demands. 

Harry kisses him on the back of his neck and presses inside. 

It’s white hot heat and lovely, slow movements as they both adjust to this position. From this angle Harry can really dick into Louis deeply, holding him close as he pistons his hips and really starts to work into him, a tight guiding hand on his hip. Louis surrenders to it, lets Harry use his hole like he did his mouth, driving him towards his pleasure. 

Each thrust punches breathy moans out of Louis, little uh-uh-uh noises falling from his mouth as his belly fills with molten heat, his orgasm building. 

He cries out as he comes, hands clutching at the sheets as Harry fucks him through it. His body trembles with it, his legs twitching as Harry continues to drive into him until his own orgasm follows a few moments later. 

“Love you,” Harry grunts into his ear, which makes Louis laugh even though he’s still panting. He draws Harry’s arm tighter around his middle, their hands linking across Harry’s chest. Harry makes no move to pull out of Louis, tucking his chin over his shoulder and pressing sloppy kisses onto his neck and cheek. 

“Love you too,” Louis mumbles once he’s found his voice again. He grins, turning his face to nose at Harry’s cheek, kissing the corner of his mouth. “And you said it this time, not me.”

“How am I meant to have sex with you and not tell you how much I love you, huh?” Harry moves his hand down, running a finger through the mess of spunk on Louis’s stomach. “It’s impossible for me, can’t help it.”

“Loser,” Louis huffs. Harry shifts forward a little and Louis whimpers as his cock shifts inside him, oversensitive. “Ohhhh.”

“God, I love being inside of you,” Harry moans, shifting again to try and take some of the pressure off Louis. “Even like this when we’ve finished. I love it so much.”

Louis blushes. “I love it too,” he murmurs, like it’s a secret. It’s another one of those weird things that would definitely not be right with anyone other than Harry, but with Harry he adores it. He’s never felt closer to anyone in his life. “God, how has this relationship only been, like, four months?” He glances back at his boyfriend, an unfamiliar feeling settling in his belly. 

Now he’s said that out loud, he can’t quite believe it. Four months of being with Harry, of loving Harry, of being close to Harry like this. It feels like no time at all but also like he’s been doing this his whole life. 

“Not quite four months,” Harry murmurs, smiling. “Like three and a half.”

“Jesus,” Louis mutters disbelievingly. He cups Harry’s face with one hand. “How are you real? How are you mine?”

“Wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else than right here right now,” Harry replies, dipping down to kiss him with such a fiery passion that it makes his head spin. “Couldn’t be anything other than yours.”

Louis groans against his lips, but it’s a pleased groan, one that he hopes conveys to Harry he feels the same. It’s a weird feeling to be wanted this much by someone like Harry and he’s going to relish every moment of closeness this week can offer them. 

They stay pressed close as they share a quick shower, washing the sweat and cum from each other’s bodies and stealing kisses under the spray. Now they’ve had that conversation back there, things feel very charged between them, like they can’t bear to be separated even for a few seconds. 

It’s started raining again when they dry off and change into fresh t-shirts and boxers. The room smells like sex and there’s definitely a jizz stain on Louis’s side of the bed already but a quick inspection of the wardrobe shows them there’s two spare changes of sheets and Harry smirks at Louis when he locates them. They’re both definitely thinking they’ll go through all three. 

Harry cooks them a quick, but delicious meal of sausages and mash, and even though it’s a little too warm to light the fire given that it’s summer, they do it anyway and snuggle on the sofa as they eat. After the plates are cleared away and the sky is starting to get dark again with the threat of another rainstorm, both men clamber into the hot tub and spend the rest of the evening kissing and drinking wine and talking about nothing in particular. 

And the week carries on in a similar vein. Each morning they wake up and eat breakfast and drink tea on the decking outside, enjoying the summer sun or the warm rain depending on what the British summertime throws their way, before they spend the rest of their days watching movie marathons, making out in the hot tub or making love on the water bed upstairs. 

It’s the best holiday Louis has had in years. 

They have no reason to leave the cabin at all, so they don’t, at least for the first few days. While it’s tempting to maybe go and do some hiking in the peaks, go out for a lovely dinner, or even explore some of the local towns and villages, neither of them make the effort to suggest it. Louis is so enjoying just not being in their flat down in London, where it’s always loud even at night and the air is always thick with traffic and smog. Up here it’s different: so peaceful, the only sounds being the rain hitting the roof or birds chirping in the early morning. They’re secluded enough from other cabins that they don’t even hear anyone else, the only sound from the front of the cabin is the occasional car driving up to their own house. 

At night especially it feels like they’re the only two people in the whole world, and Louis finds he wouldn’t mind that at all. 

On their second to last evening, Louis goes to make a cup of tea and realises they’ve run out of milk. He proceeds to complain for ten straight minutes until Harry shuts him up with a kiss before grabbing his car keys. 

“There’s a corner shop up the way, drama queen,” he says, shoving his feet into his flip-flops. “Plus we need some more red wine anyway. I wanna make a ragu for dinner.”

Louis perks up. “Steak ragu and pasta?” 

“You mean your favourite dish that I make for you?” Harry drawls. “Yes, that one.” He opens the door and leaves with a fleeting wave. “Bye sunshine, love you!”

“Love you more,” Louis calls after him, grinning at the thought of what’s to come. Harry makes Louis this dish all the time because he knows it’s his favourite, so it’s not a surprise he’s making it on this trip, but usually the night ends with Louis thanking Harry  _ very  _ considerably. 

He doesn’t know where this corner shop is or how long Harry will be, so he entertains himself for a few minutes by flicking through his phone before he pads upstairs and rifles through his bag for the sheet music for  _ Joseph,  _ which has sat untouched all week. 

He brings the folder back downstairs and sits cross legged on the sofa, flicking through it as he reads over the words and notes. He knows many of them by heart as it’s a musical he’s loved for years, so he isn’t too worried about belting out some practice notes without warming up his voice first. 

“ _ I close my eyes… drew back the curtains…” _

He sings the song once sitting down and then stands, clearing his throat before launching into it again, hand on his belly as he uses the other to feature towards an invisible audience. So caught up in the song is he that he doesn’t see Harry come back in with the shopping, jumping as he begins to applaud once the song is over. 

“Fucking  _ hell _ ,” he yelps, clasping his hand to his chest. “You scared me. I didn’t think you’d be back so quick.”

“It’s only up the road, I told you,” Harry says. His smile is warm and proud as he takes a few steps forward towards the kitchen. “But I could listen to you sing for hours on end. Your voice is so unique, it’s gorgeous.”

“Shut up,” Louis scowls, cheeks pink. “I’m shy.”

Harry snorts as he starts unpacking the shopping into the fridge. “Shy,” he repeats dryly, like he doesn’t believe him. “Shy when you perform in front of thousands of people every day.”

“Shy in front of you and you  _ only _ ,” Louis says sardonically. “Dunno why but it feels, like, weird, the idea of just you hearing me sing.”

“But I love your voice,” Harry pouts, setting out the steak from the fridge. “You hungry now?” 

Louis nods, closing the songbook and joining Harry in the kitchen area. He winds his arms around Harry’s middle and tilts his head for a kiss, which Harry gladly gives him. “Thank you for going to the shop for me,” he tells Harry warmly. “And thank you for being so nice even though I can’t take a compliment.”

Harry kisses the top of his head before letting him go, heading over to the sink to fill the kettle. “I’ve heard you sing a thousand times and I’ll never get sick of it,” he hums. “Do you not remember the first time I sucked you off was because of your voice? I literally couldn’t help myself.”

Louis shakes his head and hoists himself onto one of the bar stools so he can sit with Harry while he cooks. 

“Still doesn’t mean I’m any good at taking a compliment,” he says with a shrug. “Plus I hadn’t warmed up just then so I sounded all squeaky.”

“Stop making excuses,” Harry scolds him lightly. “Do you do your vocal warm ups when we’re singing in the car?”

“Sometimes,” Louis laughs. “Okay, no. I know I must have some talent when it comes to singing or else I wouldn’t be where I am today. It’s just… I dunno, it’s just different, you telling me I have a good voice.”

“Okay,” Harry says, in the same tone he always uses when Louis is being self-deprecating. Louis makes a face at him and decides to change the subject instead. 

“Can I take you out for dinner tomorrow night?”

Harry stops chopping garlic for a second and chuckles. “No,” he says, fixing Louis with a look. “I have plans for tomorrow.”

Louis feels hot all over. “Oh?”

“Louis, darling.” Harry sets down the knife and comes around the table to Louis’s side. He takes Louis’s face in his hands and kisses him soundly, knocking their noses together with how fervently he moves in and clutches at Louis. “I love you so much.”

“I know,” Louis says hoarsely, licking his lips. “Look, if I upset you because of the singing thing…”

“You haven’t,” Harry insists, tracing the length of Louis’s cheekbone with his thumb slowly. “I just… I wish you could see yourself how I see you.”

“Huh?” Louis frowns. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not even that I want you to feel like you can sing in front of me,” Harry starts, then cuts himself off. “Well, no. I would love you to be able to sing in front of just me, but I get why it makes you shy. I just don’t think you realise how talented and perfect I think you are.”

“Yeah, because you think too highly of me.”

“Does Andrew Lloyd Webber think too highly of you then?” Harry asks cheekily. “Does every casting director who’s cast you in a lead role think so?”

“Yeah, alright,” Louis huffs, embarrassed. 

“Anyway, I don’t like it when you get so worked up you try and change the subject and do something you think I’ll love when really, I just love you.”

Louis buries his face into Harry’s chest so he can’t see how red he’s going. “Fuck you,” he mumbles. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Harry says, cradling Louis into him and kissing the top of his head lightly. “I really do have plans for us tomorrow, by the way. I know it doesn’t look like there’s a lot we can do differently in this cottage but I have dinner and everything all planned out.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” Harry says with a grin so dazzling that Louis can’t but soften. “Dinner is all sorted and so are the nightly activities, if you catch my drift.” He waggles his eyebrows comically, then leans forward to whisper in Louis’s ear. “I mean sex.”

Louis giggles and winds his arms back around Harry’s neck, kissing him and kissing him until Harry groans and reluctantly bats him away so he can go back to cooking. 

They don’t talk about Louis’s audition for the rest of the weekend which Louis is grateful for because he doesn’t need to be any more in his head about it than he already is. Instead, they eat their steak ragu and then Harry fucks Louis on his belly, hands covering Louis’s smaller ones where they’re gripping the slats on the headboard. 

His whole body covers Louis like a blanket as he fucks him slow and deep and  _ hard,  _ heavy precise thrusts hitting Louis’s spot almost every time. Harry’s chin hooks over Louis’s shoulder and he murmurs a mix of filthy words and soft reassurances with every whimper Louis makes. 

He comes all over the sheets untouched after what feels like hours of it, body going taut and then totally lax as Harry fucks him through it. He pulls out and manoeuvres Louis onto his back before he starts jerking off, coming all over his thighs with a grunt and a groan. 

He collapses down next to Louis on the pillows, the bed neatly bouncing them both off with the force of it. 

“I think we should get a waterbed,” Harry mumbles. “Practically does all the thrusting for me.”

“Such a fucking top,” Louis grins as he winds an arm around his boyfriend’s sweaty form, drawing him in for a cuddle even though they’re both gross and sticky. 

True to his word, Harry spends the next day making it all about Louis. Louis wakes up to the smell of coffee and croissants and traipses downstairs to find Harry gloriously naked and baking, which are two of his favourite things. He pads over to him and gives him a sweet good morning kiss that Harry instantly deepens, which makes Louis wince and break it. 

“Morning breath,” he whines, but Harry shakes his head. 

“My tongue’s been up your arse,” he tuts playfully, dodging as Louis swats at him. “I’m sure I can cope with a bit of morning breath.”

“Foul,” Louis tells him, but he doesn’t move from Harry’s hold. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Harry kisses him on the forehead instead and spins Louis around so he can look in the oven. “Croissants will be about five minutes, yeah? Do you want to stick the telly on with breakfast?”

They eat on the sofa and watch an old David Attenborough documentary while they drink their hot drinks before Harry slides his plate onto the coffee table and practically climbs into Louis’s lap. 

“So I want to do something today,” he starts, and he looks  _ nervous.  _ Louis furrows his brows. “I want to see how many times I can make you come.”

It isn’t often that Louis is completely lost for words, but now is very much one of those times. 

“Huh?” is all he manages before his brain catches up with him. “Wait, what?”

Harry is biting his lip. “I want to see how many times I can make you come,” he says again. “I want to take you to bed and keep making you come until you physically can’t anymore.” 

“But… why?”

Harry bursts out laughing at the question, but it’s not his deep, throaty laugh, it sounds more like he’s confused by the question. “Why?” he repeats. 

“Yeah, why?” Louis shakes his head. He’s baffled by the request - don’t get him wrong, he loves sex with Harry, but the most he’s ever managed is two orgasms in one session. He can’t imagine even trying for any more than that. 

“Because I want to make you fall apart completely,” Harry says. Louis doesn’t understand how his cheeks aren’t flaming, how having a conversation about fucking Louis until he can’t come anymore isn’t even a  _ little  _ awkward for him. He’s pretty sure he’s probably never been redder than this in his life. “I want you to give yourself up and let me do whatever it takes to make yourself come as many times as you can because nothing is hotter to me than the way you look when you come and I want to push your boundaries.” He shrugs. “We don’t have to, but I’d like to.”

“Is this like a… a dom thing?” God, Louis feels like he’s on fire. He feels like a fucking virgin again. 

Harry frowns. “No? It’s a thing for me, sure, to push my partner to the limit and get them to a point where all they can remember is my name, but I’m not like, looking to make you call me Daddy or anything.”

Normally that’s the kind of sentence that Louis would laugh at, but not right now, not when he’s still so baffled by this request. 

“So like…” He doesn’t really know what to say. “We just keep having sex until I come loads? How will you know when I’m ready to stop?”

“Louis, darling,” Harry cuts in and cups his face. “I didn’t want this to be a thing that makes you scared. I’ll know because I know how you react when I touch you in certain ways and how you react, and I hope you trust me enough to know that if we’re doing anything and you ask me to stop I’ll do it.”

“I trust you,” Louis promises, because he trusts Harry more than anyone in the world. “And I’m not  _ scared,  _ per se. It’s just, like, not a request I thought I’d get today.”

“We can absolutely do this on your terms or we don’t even have to do it at all, and we can definitely get a safe word agreed between us in case you want me to stop.”

A  _ safe word.  _ “Jesus,” Louis mutters. “I never thought I’d ever do anything kinky enough to warrant a safe word.”

Harry shakes his head and kisses him. “God, this isn’t even that kinky,” he says with a grin that’s almost sad. “I just want to make you feel good, yeah? And sometimes when you’ve come this much, like, all you can focus on is pleasure and teetering the line between pleasure and pain, like, really pushing your body to its limit, you relax so much. Like you come away feeling like you’ve had one, like, mega-orgasm.”

It’s completely irrational, the pang of jealousy that shoots through Louis as he thinks about Harry doing this with somebody else, but  _ of course _ he has. 

“Have you… done this with many people before me?” the self-saboteur in him asks before he can stop himself. “Sorry, that’s not a fair question, I’m sorry.”

“Nobody I’ve loved as deeply as I love you,” is Harry’s answer. “I’ve never been as attracted to or enjoyed having sex with someone as much as I do with you, Louis, and that’s the truth.” 

Louis scowls. “What, even though I’m a prude?”

“You’re not a prude, darling, and we both know it.” Harry taps him on the nose. “Sure, your experience isn’t the broadest and you spent a few years in a relationship with a total shit but it’s never too late to explore your kinks.” He shrugs. “And I know we haven’t really talked about kinks much and I’m absolutely dying to know if you have any you haven’t told me about yet, but this is one of mine that I love.”

Louis swallows slowly. It’s just a lot sometimes, to be wanted by someone like Harry, but he wants to try this. He wants to give Harry what he wants. 

“Will you kiss me lots?” he asks shyly. “And talk to me as it happens?”

“Of  _ course _ ,” Harry nods hurriedly. “I love how much you love kissing during sex.”

“Okay,” Louis nods. He feels like he’s vibrating a bit with nerves, but he wants to try this, he can’t lie to himself. On the face of it it sounds a bit intimidating, but now Harry’s sold it as basically an afternoon of him being at Harry’s disposal, letting him worship his body and basically fuck him until he can’t take it anymore sounds actually rather exciting. 

Sex isn’t scary with Harry and he already feels leagues more confident than he did at the beginning of their relationship. And Harry’s right - it’s never too late to start exploring kinks. 

“Okay?” Harry beams at him like a kid on Christmas morning. 

“Okay,” Louis repeats. 

Harry moves in to kiss him frantically, smiling against his lips. “God, Louis,” he groans, hands sliding up his back, anchoring the pair even closer together. Wild horses couldn’t pull Louis from Harry’s hold right now. “I love you so much. Thank you for this.”

Louis snorts. “Saying thank you makes it sound like I’m doing you a favour.”

Harry shakes his head fondly. “Do you want to come up with the safe word?”

Louis mulls it over. “Cabbage,” he says after a second. “Nothing about cabbage is sexy at all.”

“Cabbage it is.” He leans forward for another kiss, licking into Louis’s mouth with a kiss that leaves him feeling dizzy. Harry’s earlier qualm about morning breath seems entirely forgotten as he presses Louis onto his back and hovers over him so he can get a better angle and they kiss until Louis breaks it, feeling himself start to chub up in his boxers. 

“When, um… and like, where shall we do it?”

Harry licks his lips. There’s a string of spit joining their lips together still but neither of them make a move to break it. “Later,” he tells him. “I need you to be, like, properly fed and watered before we do anything.”

Louis laughs. “Oh yeah? Need me to keep my strength up before I jizz my brains out?” 

“Literally yes,” Harry grins at him, smacking one last kiss onto his lips. He pulls Louis back up into a seated position. “Which is why I kind of had today planned specially, you know? Down to the meals and everything.”

“Damn, you really thought of everything, didn’t you?”

Harry shrugs. “I just love you a lot and think you deserve to be shown every now and again.” He grins all lopsidedly. “If worshipping my boyfriend is wrong then I don’t wanna be right.”

“Shut the fuck…” Louis pushes Harry’s face away and wriggles out from underneath him, shrieking as Harry catches him and pretty soon they’re making out again, unable to stop now they’ve started. 

True to his word, Harry makes sure Louis is well fed and has drunk a good amount of water and tea before bringing it up again a few hours later. They’ve stayed downstairs all morning and into the afternoon and it’s raining again now, the sky darkening outside even though it’s the middle of the day. The TV is playing an old episode of  _ Murder, She Wrote  _ but it’s clear that Harry hasn’t paid attention to any of this episode from the way he’s vibrating next to Louis on the sofa, his leg tip-tapping agains the hardwood floor. 

“Babe,” Louis says, taking a deep breath. “I’m going for a shower, yeah? Do you… do you want me to meet you upstairs in a few minutes?”

Harry nods so quick that his hair flies forward and hits Louis in the face, which makes him splutter and makes the pair of them laugh, which dispels some of the tension. “Sorry,” Harry chuckles, tucking it back behind his ear. “I’m just so excited, if you couldn’t tell.”

“Oh, I can,” Louis says, standing up and popping his back. “And so am I, like, really excited now, love. So.”

“I really want to kiss you right now but if I start I won’t stop.” Harry shakes his head and puts a metre or so between them. “Go and shower. I’ll see you upstairs in a second.”

Anticipation runs through his veins as he scrubs himself thoroughly in the shower, using his expensive body wash and Harry’s fancy cleanser. He even slaps on some aftershave even though he knows he’s probably just going to sweat it off. He wraps the towel around his waist, tuts at himself and then immediately discards it to the side. Harry’s only going to rip it off anyway and he might as well start this as he means to go on, which is naked, confident, and sexy. 

Like he suspected, Harry is waiting for him, sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but his Calvin’s. He grins when Louis opens the door and his gaze trails up and down Louis’s bare body. He licks his lips. 

“Look at you,” he says, voice like gravel. Louis walks straight over to him and climbs into his lap, wrapping his arms around his neck, pressing their crotches together. “Shit, Louis, you’re so gorgeous.”

Louis makes a pleased noise and lets Harry lift him properly onto the mattress, laying him on his back against the pillows. Harry spreads his legs and climbs in between then, hovering over Louis and pinning his arms up. 

“I can’t get over how beautiful you are,” he hums, eyes trailing the length of Louis’s body again. He sounds really, genuinely in awe and the way his gaze darkens as his eyes reach the lower half of Louis, the place he’s going to focus on for the next however long, Louis has to fight the urge to squirm. 

Harry licks his lips again, leaning down to press kisses to Louis’s shoulders and chest before moving up to his lips. His grip on Louis’s wrists loosens and Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s neck as they kiss, hands fisting in his hair and drawing him even closer. It starts out frantic, Louis already on edge and a little turned on, but Harry changes the pace and slows it down with practiced ease. 

“No rush, my darling,” he murmurs against his lips. “I’m going to be taking my time with you.” 

Louis nods, fisting his hand in Harry’s hair a little tighter so he can ground himself. “I love you,” he croaks, because it’s true and also he just wants to hear Harry say it back. 

“I love you more than anything,” Harry whispers. “Anything, Lou.”

Louis feels like he’s flying. There’s a liquid happiness running through his body just from hearing those words that almost feels like an orgasm and he can’t help the whimper that escapes him.

“I know,” he says with a shy smile, because somehow it feels more important to say that than anything else. “God,  _ Harry _ .”

“Baby.” Harry leans down to kiss him again, tongue licking into Louis’s mouth as Louis wraps his legs around Harry’s back, pulling him closer. Louis loves kissing so much and Harry has this way of kissing him that makes him feel so cherished and small that he can’t fully wrap his head around it. 

Outside of the bedroom, Louis likes to be in control, to be loud and mouthy and a bit of a shit. The dynamics swap totally when he’s with Harry in the bedroom. 

He doesn’t know if it’s because Harry took the lead from the start in their relationship when it came to sex or if he just never really noticed how affected he gets by certain things before, but the way Harry takes the time to kiss him first, to touch him and hold him and make him feel all soft and safe and relaxed before they take it further is almost more invigorating than the actual sex for him. He craves that feeling of smallness, of feeling cared for by his bigger boyfriend, in a way he never thought he would. 

Louis honestly doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of kissing Harry, but there comes a point where his body wants more so he finds himself rutting up against Harry’s leg without even realising he’s doing it. Harry chuckles and breaks the kiss, smoothing his hands over Louis’s tummy before ducking down and pressing kisses down his chest, towards his cock. 

“Wanna get off like that, baby?” His voice is so deep, so turned on, that Louis feels instantly submissive to it and he doesn’t know  _ why.  _ “Just rut against me? Hump my leg?”

“God,” Louis breathes out, voice barely there. Harry looks at him with such dark eyes that he feels overwhelmed, eager to be good for Harry. He whimpers as he nods and Harry ducks down to kiss him on the lips again, reassuring. 

“Yes?” he asks. “Words, baby, please.”

“Yes,” Louis grits out, hands trembling. Harry nods and kisses him again--Louis hopes he never stops--before leaning back on his haunches so he can manoeuvre Louis’s legs around his waist. He shuffles himself up and slides both his arms under the small of Louis’s back. 

“There we are, darling,” he murmurs softly before kissing Louis again. Louis pulls himself up a little, hands on each of Harry’s shoulders and moves his hips experimentally. It’s a little weird to be downright humping Harry like a fucking teenager, but it feels good, so he does it again, rolling his hips a little higher this time. 

“Yeah, hump me, good boy,” Harry coaxes, moaning as Louis’s nails dig into the back of his neck. “Use my leg, come  _ on.” _

With Harry’s hands underneath him it’s easy to keep a rhythm going and pretty soon Louis is downright rutting up against him, his dick spurting pre-come against Harry’s skin and easing the slide a little. It’s just the wrong side of not enough though and he starts to whimper again as he worries he won’t be able to come from just this, that this just isn’t  _ enough.  _

He wants to keep going, wants to come like this and be a good boy for Harry, but Harry seems to have caught on to Louis’s worry, thank god. His hand slides out from under Louis’s back and he keeps him pressed close as he wraps a hand around Louis’s cock. It’s an intense shift in feeling and he whimpers even louder as Harry starts to jerk him off slowly and kiss him at the same time. 

Louis shrieks against Harry’s lips as he comes, Harry’s hand working over his length teasingly slowly, coaxing him through it, but then not stopping when things start to get over-sensitive. Louis’s legs twitch and his hips jerk upwards, like his body wants to move away from it all and take a second, but Harry clearly has other ideas. 

“Good boy,” he says again as he keeps working over Louis’s length. Louis can feel Harry’s own cock pressed against his leg from his angle and he goes to reach for it, but Harry doesn’t let him. Instead, he grabs Louis’s wrist in his free hand and licks the palm of his hand, laving his tongue over the sweaty skin. 

“Touch yourself for me, darling, keep yourself hard,” he instructs, pressing kisses over Louis’s chest and tummy. “I’m going to open you up for my cock now, okay?”

His second orgasm comes fairly quickly after that--he has three of Harry’s fingers tucked inside his arse and Harry’s mouth around his cock, both his own hands now fisted tightly in the sheets as he tries not to squirm too much. Harry doesn’t relent his movements all the way through Louis’s orgasm and once he’s finished coming he makes quick work of putting on a condom and sliding into Louis, fucking into him before his dick can go completely soft. 

Louis feels like he’s seeing stars as he presses inside him. The only word he can remember is Harry, Harry, Harry and that’s all he can cry as Harry starts to pound into him. 

“Good boy,” Harry coos into Louis’s ear before kissing him as promised, a brief press of lips that Louis doesn’t really return because he’s too out of it. He whimpers, scratching at Harry’s back as he fucks into him again and again. His dick is trapped between their two bodies and it twitches against his stomach with every upthrust, sensitive, but definitely still interested. 

Orgasm number three takes him by surprise. He’s so oversensitive by now that he’s half-expecting Harry to just finish himself and call it quits, but Harry is so focused on his pleasure that it’s not a surprise that doesn’t happen. Harry hikes Louis’s legs up so there’s one on each of Harry’s shoulders, near enough folding him in half so he can dick into him deeper, harder, and even though his thrusts are slower at this angle, there’s more precision behind them. 

“Can you touch yourself for me again, angel?” Harry’s voice says from above him, and it takes Louis a second to register that he’s spoken. “Louis? You with me, honey?”

“Uh,” is what Louis manages to reply, his back arching as a particularly delicious thrust nails his spot. “ _ Fuck.” _

“Touch yourself,” Harry requests again, taking Louis’s hand out of the sheets. “Baby, so close, come on…”

He sobs as he starts to jerk himself off again, a shiver running through him from head to toe from the oversensitivity, and with no warning at all his body starts to spasm, his orgasm ripping through his body. Tears start to pour from his eyes as Harry pulls out and he’s only partly aware of him tugging at his own cock, fucking into his fist before he starts to come all over Louis’s red hot skin, coating Louis’s thighs and tummy with it.

Louis feels like he’s drunk. He can barely register anything other than Harry’s hand on his leg, shuffling forward before soft wet kisses are left on his legs. Harry’s speaking but he can’t really register what he’s saying, but there’s also an unbridled happiness to his being right now. As long as Harry’s there he trusts he’ll be alright and that’s  _ good. _ That’s a very good feeling indeed.

Orgasm number four is teetering the fine line between pain and pleasure, a feeling so intense that Louis feels like he’s paralysed. Harry’s fingers are relentless as they keep pressing on his spot, his other hand stroking Louis’s softening cock. 

It almost feels like a complete surrender when his body comes and he barely registers it until after the fact, his body going completely lax against the mattress. His dick  _ hurts  _ and that’s pretty much the only part of his body he can feel. The rest of him feels like a cloud, light and soft and made of nothing but air and sweat. 

He feels like he couldn’t move even if he wanted to, too tired to even kiss Harry back when he moves up his body. 

“Baby, can you open your eyes for me?”

It takes every ounce of strength that Louis has left, but he opens his eyes. “Baby,” he slurs. “Baby, Harry.”

“Baby,” Harry chuckles, running a hand up his chest. “So good, baby. We’re stopping now, okay?”

“Did you come?” Louis practically whispers the words because he feels like he can barely find his voice. Harry nods and links their fingers together. 

“Of course I did,” he tells him. His voice sounds so far away. “How could I not when I’m having sex with my best boy? Such a beautiful boy.”

“Beautiful,” Louis repeats, smugly, dopily. “Beautiful Harry.”

“Beautiful Louis,” Harry says, manoeuvring Louis so he’s on his back. He locates a packet of baby wipes on the floor and uses them to mop at Louis’s sticky, sweaty skin. Louis smiles and mumbles a quiet thank you and Harry pecks him on the lips. “You’re welcome, lovely Louis.”

“Feel sleepy,” Louis mumbles. His bones feel too heavy to sit up and his head feels like it’s full of cotton wool. “Sleep?”

“It’s still light outside,” Harry points out, giggling as Louis shakes his head against the pillows. “It’s not light outside?”

“Sleep,” Louis says again, making grabby hands at Harry. “Cuddle at least.”

“Cuddle I can do.” Harry’s body is lovely and warm as he slides behind Louis, spooning him for a change. He pulls up the duvet so it’s draped over their bodies and he presses a long, wet kiss to Louis’s shoulder. “We’ve got some dinner when you’re ready.”

Louis isn’t sure if he naps as such, but he doesn’t feel fully awake as he lies there in Harry’s arms, feeling safe and so, so loved as Harry mumbles absolute nothings into his ear. 

He isn’t sure how long they lie there for, but eventually his stomach rumbles and he moves to turn in Harry’s hold. 

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Harry brushes a strand of hair from Louis’s eyes. “You back with me now?”

“Think so,” Louis sighs. His limbs still feel heavy but he feels like he could sit up and eat and have a proper conversation now, something he definitely didn’t feel before. “Dunno what happened to me there.”

“Do you feel good?” Harry asks. “Nice and relaxed?”

“I feel like I’ve had the best night’s sleep of my life,” Louis admits. “Is that weird given we had sex? And an orgasm makes me super tired?”

“But isn’t it the best feeling when you’re so relaxed because all you could do was focus on pleasure?”

“ _ Yeah _ , actually,” Louis says, a little dazed. “Like I feel like for the last however long I didn’t think at all?”

“And you relaxed,” Harry says. He scratches lightly at Louis’s scalp. “Honestly, baby, the sight of you like that, taking my fingers like that and moaning my name like that and then just… fuck, coming dry? It was  _ unreal _ .”

“I came dry?” Louis doesn’t even remember that. “Shit.”

“You were incredible,” Harry murmurs proudly. “Four orgasms I managed to coax out of you, do you remember?”

“Kind of?” It’s weird how little of the specifics he remembers, but he does know that the whole way through he felt great, pleasure zipping through his body like electricity for the whole duration. “I know I’ve never come that hard before.”

“It was beautiful.” Harry shakes his head against the pillows. “I know I can’t seem to shut the fuck up about it, but it really was incredible.”

“I believe you,” Louis laughs. “God, it’s weird that now I feel so fucking good after I was so, like, apprehensive?”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, eh?” Harry kisses him and Louis bites his lip to be a shit and they end up giggling and kissing until it’s Harry’s tummy that rumbles this time. “Shall we get some food?”

Harry really has thought of everything, because the food awaiting for him downstairs turns out to be BBQ chicken pizza, his favourite, that Harry had pre-prepared and is ready to heat up in the oven. He also throws in some chicken nuggets and wedges so they can have a proper junk food feast. 

Louis is only wearing an old t-shirt of Harry’s, so he shivers a little as he sits down on the sofa and covers his legs with a blanket. “I’m cold,” he complains loudly, louder than he’s spoken in a good couple of hours. “I should not be this cold in August.”

“You’re always cold,” Harry chuckles, but obediently flicks the kettle on to boil. “Shall I make you a cup of tea, my sweet?”

Louis nods and smiles happily, snuggling deeper under the blanket as Harry moves around the kitchen, and Louis just watches him. He’s not put any clothes on yet, his hair tied back and still damp from the shower. He’s beautiful and Louis lets himself daydream about a day when Harry’s walking naked around  _ their  _ flat, a shared space that they live in together and have sex like that at least once a week. 

Harry joins him a couple of minutes later, setting two steaming mugs on the coffee table. “How are you feeling, sunshine?”

“Good,” Louis nods, resting his head against Harry’s chest. “How are you feeling?”

“I loved that,” Harry answers, which isn’t really the answer to his question, but it makes Louis grin. “That was most probably the best sex I’ve ever had in my entire life and I loved every fucking second.”

“I loved it too,” Louis says, linking their hands together, and then he says, “Lingerie.”

Harry furrows his brows. “What?”

“Lingerie,” Louis repeats. “Since we’re being all open and talking about our kinks and things. I want to try wearing lingerie.”

Harry’s grin is electric. Louis can only assume it’s a mix of pride and being slightly turned on by the idea. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Louis says, squeezing Harry’s knee. “I want to wear stockings and a thong when I ride you one day.”

“I would love that.” Harry leans forward and rubs their noses together. “What else?”

“I want to try toys,” Louis says, dropping his gaze from Harry’s face. Instead of looking at him he plays with Harry’s fingers, twisting the one ring he kept on round and round. “Like plugs and stuff. And maybe…” He shrugs like it’s not a big deal, but this is a very big deal. He’s never voiced any of this out loud, not even to Zayn or Liam after a drink. “Maybe one day you could ride me while I have a vibrator in my arse.”

“Fuck,” Harry swears, tilting Louis’s chin so they’re looking at each other again. “ _ Definitely _ yes. That’s so hot, Lou, Jesus.”

“I’ve never…” Louis trails off. He shrugs again. “But I want to with you.”

“I’m honoured,” Harry says, then kisses him. “I’m glad I fucked the embarrassment of talking about kinks out of you.”

“ _ Hey,”  _ Louis swats at him. “Fuck you.” He grins. “But me too, for the record. Best sex of my whole life.” He looks back down at his lap. “I know that might not be saying much coming from me, someone who hasn’t had much sex, but it really was.” He shifts a little closer to Harry, if that’s even possible, and strokes a hand over his knee. “I felt so safe with you. I felt like I didn’t know what was going on at all towards the end, but I trust you so much and you made me feel so good. It was fucking incredible.”

Harry spends so long kissing him after he says that that they don’t register the oven timer going off until it’s a bit too late and their perfect dinner is not so perfect anymore, just a little burnt around the edges. Louis finds he doesn’t care much, not when he’s got Harry practically in his lap as they share their dinner, snuggled close under the blanket as it pours with rain outside. It’s easy to feel like they’re the only two people in the world again. 

In the shower later that evening, Harry drops to his knees and brings Louis off to orgasm number five. Louis trembles and cries through it, but afterwards he feels lovely and floaty again, and Harry cuddles him all the way through the aftershocks. It’s a brand new feeling, but when he’s got Harry holding him like this he wonders why they haven’t been doing it since day one. 

They’re definitely doing this again (and again, and again), that’s for fucking sure. 

*

“Hi, sweet boy,” Louis whispers as he climbs into Harry’s bed Sunday night. The flat is dark when he arrives and he knows that Harry had wanted to stay awake for him but it’s late, much later than Louis had expected to be. His train was delayed and then roadworks had stopped him taking his usual route home, so it’s gone midnight by the time he pulls up outside Harry’s block of flats, and then another few minutes of him digging around in the glovebox for his copy of Harry’s key because he’s lazy and hasn’t put it on his keyring yet.

Harry hums an affirmation and peels back the duvet from his naked body so that Louis can climb into his space. They snuggle into each other and Louis lets out a long and content little sigh when Harry kisses his hair.

“Good, wassit?”

“I think it went quite well,” Louis whispers. In all honesty he could do with having a massive debrief with Harry about it all--riding down in first class on the train feeling really rather out of place, getting collected from the train station in a fancy black car, getting to meet with and then sit and eat lunch with one of the industry greats, a hero of Louis’s since he started performing in secondary school and learned who he was, before singing songs from one of his favourite musicals in front of him and a bunch of his cronies before coming away without knowing if he’ll be offered the role or not--but it’s definitely not the time, not when his boyfriend can barely keep his eyes open. “We can talk in the morning, love.”

Harry nods blearily, his lips puckering like he’s trying to kiss Louis but they don’t connect with any part of him. “I’ll get us some brekky in,” he mumbles, and then, “Love you so much, you know. I’m so proud of you.”

“I know, baby,” Louis says, settling against Harry’s chest with a smile on his face. “I love you too.”

His dreams that night are full of coats of many colours, and all of them have one particular person sitting on the front row, beaming up at him as he takes his final bow. 

He wakes up feeling very content, warm and cozy and to the smell of coffee and toast. Harry isn’t in the bed next to him, which is a crying shame, but given the gorgeous smells filling the room coupled with how he can hear Harry singing in the kitchen, he doesn’t have far to look for him. 

He doesn’t bother pulling on a t-shirt or boxers as he moves through the house to get to him, stopping off briefly at the bathroom to have a quick wee. He moves through to the kitchen, humming to himself as he goes. 

Harry’s wearing nothing but a pair of Calvin’s and a big cheesy grin when he greets Louis. “Morning, honey.”

“Hi, love,” Louis chirps, moving past him and kissing him on the shoulder so he can get to the kettle. “Sorry for waking you so late last night.”

Harry shrugs. “No bother at all. S’not like we have a job to go to today, thank god.”

“True,” Louis hums happily, pleased that he’s got another day off with his boy. He has big plans that involve doing very little other than ordering in some Thai food, catching up on  _ Corrie  _ and lots of snogging. He can’t wait. “You wanna hear about it now or shower first?”

Harry shakes his head, holding up his half-eaten toast. “Want me to make you some?” he offers. Louis nods as he’s dumping his teabag in the sink, then winces because he knows Harry’s about to tell him off. True to form, Harry’s pouting at him. “Okay, I’ll make you some toast, clear up your mess and join you on the sofa in a sec.”

“Sorry, love,” Louis grins, stepping over to him and pulling him down for a kiss by his necklace. It’s not the most romantic kiss they’ve ever shared--Harry’s got a mouth full of toast--but it makes them both smile. “Just butter please.”

A few minutes later they’re both sitting on the sofa, plates of toast in their laps and hot drinks steaming on the coffee table.

“So,” Harry starts.

“So,” Louis repeats, nibbling at the crust. “I think it went quite well, but I don’t actually know.” He snorts. “It turns out that Andrew Lloyd Webber isn’t one to give anything away.”

“But you think it went alright?” Harry asks. “You sound like you’re quite confident in it at least.”

Louis shrugs. In all honesty, he’s been in the business for almost ten years and he  _ still  _ can’t really tell if he’s got a role or not purely based on how the audition went. He’s been to auditions where he’s sung and danced his heart out only to not even make the ensemble, and then there was the time he auditioned for  _ The History Boys  _ as hungover as could be and he still got a speaking role. There doesn’t seem to be a logic to how he’s feeling afterwards--it’s all a waiting game.

“I was the oldest one there by a long way as well,” he adds. “If I get the role I’ll be 27 when I play Joseph. That’s the oldest Joseph the West End will have ever seen.” He shrugs again. “Is that what they’re looking for when half the auditionees were still in drama school?”

It’s not that Louis’s insecure about his age, per se, he just knows that a lot of these roles do have an age restriction to them. Joseph is a role typically played by a bloke in their early twenties. Jason Donovan was 23 when he played him at the Palladium.

“Um, Donny Osmond was 34 though,” Harry says, levelling Louis with a look. Louis raises his eyebrows. “You’re not the only one who can use Google, you know.”

Louis snorts. “Why on earth were you googling that?”

“For the same reasons you were.” Harry puts his empty plate on the coffee table and slides forward, squeezing Louis’s knee. “Because I hate it when you get all self-deprecating like this and I wanted to find out what might make you insecure about this audition, so I googled it.”

“Git,” Louis mutters, though he doesn’t really mean it.

“They asked you to audition, so they must think you’re gonna smash it, even at the ripe old age of 27.”

“You watch your tone, young man,” Louis warns, but he’s smiling. “Urgh, you’re right. I guess I’ll have to just wait and see, won’t I?”

“You will, and regardless of what happens I’m still going to love you,” Harry coos, climbing on top of Louis and pushing his empty plate away before he starts smacking long, wet kisses all over his face. Louis shrieks and tries to bat him away, but it’s weak and it’s futile and it ends with the pair of them snogging on the couch for a good hour or so.

They spend their final day of their break in the flat as Louis had wanted to, swaddled in blankets on the sofa even though it’s quite warm outside, eating cheese on toast and watching back-to-back episodes of  _ New Girl.  _

It’s not until Wednesday that Louis hears back from the Lloyd Webber team. He wakes up at noon to a note from Harry on his pillow telling him he’s gone to the gym and a missed call from an hour ago on his phone, asking for him to call them back at his earliest convenience.

He dials the number with shaky fingers and proceeds to have a six minute conversation that changes his life.

When Harry walks back into the flat twenty minutes later, he’s barely called out a greeting before Louis bursts into tears and runs into his arms, screaming “I got it!” at the top of his lungs. Harry screams back, catching him and spinning him around as they cheer and cry together, the miserable neighbours be damned.

“You’re fucking incredible,” Harry sobs into his shoulder, putting him down on shaky legs before he smashes their mouths together. Louis can barely hold the kiss he’s smiling so wide. “Absolutely fucking  _ incredible _ .”

There’s not many times in Louis’s life where he’s believed it when someone has told him he’s incredible, but today he does. He feels like he’s floating and, here in Harry’s arms as he swings him around, mumbling how proud he is of him, he believes him. 

He fucking believes him. He  _ is  _ incredible. 

*

Louis has no idea how it happened but suddenly it’s the final week of  _ The Book of Mormon’s  _ run and everything is coming to an end. 

“What the fuck?” he says to Niall as he strolls into the dressing room. “Is this really our final fucking performance?”

“Tell me about it,” Niall groans, shaking his head. “Where the fucking hell has the time gone?”

Louis truly has no idea. If he’s honest, this whole show run has felt like a fever dream because it’s literally been the easiest, most exciting show run of his life. Nobody has had to be understudied (apart from him), the crew seem to be much more efficient now they don’t have Peter breathing down their necks, and the reviews from the press have all been glowing. 

And even though he’s absolutely ecstatic to be playing Joseph next year, there’s a part of him that wants to renew his contract for this show for the same run next year like Niall and Leigh-Anne are doing. He’s pretty sure he’s found friends for life in the pair of them and the idea of not working with them is a bit depressing. 

He doesn’t let himself dwell though, because Joseph is the role of his dreams and he absolutely would not have turned it down. It’s just going to be bittersweet, not working with his best friends anymore. 

Telling Ben he was leaving had been miserable because if he could take the staff and cast with him to this other show he absolutely would, but Ben was actually so lovely about it. He totally gets it and everyone on the cast has been nothing but supportive and uplifting about it. He’s going to miss them all so much. 

“Anyway,” Niall says, snapping Louis out of his little reverie. “I have something to tell you.” He stands up and unzips his bag, pulling a photo out the front pocket. “I’ve kept it a secret from everyone because we had a bit of a tricky start to it, but…” He trails off and hands Louis the picture. 

An ultrasound. 

“Oh my god,” Louis gasps, looking between Niall’s beaming face and the picture. “Oh my god,  _ Ni.” _

Niall laughs as Louis bundles him into a hug, jumping like they’re teenagers again. He’s so happy he could burst with it. 

“This is the best news ever.”

“Tell me about it.” Niall wipes at his eyes and stares at the ultrasound some more. “God, mate, I can’t even tell you the rocky start we had. It was a surprise it even happened because she’s been on the pill for so long but then to find out we were having twins and one of them was just way smaller than the other at the start, so…”

“Wait.” Louis’s brain takes a second to catch up but when it does he lets out a very manly squeak. “Twins?  _ Twins _ ?!”

“Twins,” Niall repeats. “Fucking twins, Lou. I’m gonna be a dad of two. Two babies.”

“Fuck off.” Louis draws him back into a hug, laughing into his shoulder and pressing several quick kisses onto his cheek. “I’m so fucking happy for you, mate. So fucking happy.”

“Thanks.” Niall’s cheeks are flushed. “I’m just so happy I can tell people now. Hailee’s five months along and we got, like, the all clear that both of them are good and we can start telling people that aren’t our families now.”

“God,” Louis winces, “Why was it so bad?”

Niall launches into the story explaining Hailee’s health, how she suffered from ovarian cancer as a teenager and how there were worries that the chemo she underwent back then may have had long-term effects on her fertility. She fell pregnant while still taking the pill and the fact that she conceived twins was nothing short of a miracle, all things considered.

He sounds like quite the over-protective husband, over-cautious and overwhelmed by it all at the same time, but if there’s one thing Louis can tell from all this is that he’s head over heels in love with her. He vaguely remembers him at the beginning of the show run mentioning about having kids in the next couple of years, but Louis has no doubt he’ll be the best dad ever. 

They spend so long just chatting that Lou ends up pounding on their dressing room demanding they get into hair and makeup  _ right fucking now you horrible lazy lot.  _ Then suddenly it’s a whirlwind of activity - his hair is quiffed, his makeup is flawless, his shirt is pressed and buttoned up to the top, tie fastened, and shoes shined. He steals a quick kiss from a passing Harry in the hallway as he heads to the sound booth, he sings their own stupid version of  _ Heigh-Ho  _ with Niall and Leigh before they go on stage, then like clockwork they’re back out on stage. 

And then just like that, it’s the end of their final show, the curtain is coming down and it’s over.

_ The Book of Mormon  _ has concluded for this run and it’s all over.

Louis cries as he bows, the crowd’s standing ovation coupled with Niall and Leigh’s tight arms around his shoulders almost too much to take. He breaks the bow to gesture the principle cast into a tight hug that has the crowd going even wilder. He knows that this is a moment he’ll never forget. 

He’s still wiping his tears as they all head offstage. Niall hasn’t let him go and has kept an arm around his shoulders all the way back to the dressing room, but he drops it when they see Harry round the corner. 

“He’s yours now,” he calls to him, which makes Louis scowl. “I wash my hands of him. He won’t stop crying.”

“Fuck you,” Louis grumbles, but he falls into Harry’s arms anyway. He’s (mostly) stopped crying by now but he’s grateful for the cuddle. “You’ll miss me when I’m not here.”

Harry wraps his arms around his middle and kisses his cheek. “Hello, superstar.”

“Hi,” Louis sniffs. “I can’t believe it’s over.” 

“It ain’t over for me,” Niall says gleefully, and Louis flips him the finger as he cackles and skips off to their dressing room. 

“Jerk,” he yells after him, but there’s really no heat behind it. 

He’s grateful for the moment alone with Harry if nothing else. He really has stopped crying now, but it’s nice to have a cuddle anyway. 

“You smashed it out there, baby,” Harry mumbles, nuzzling into Louis’s sweaty hair. “I’m so proud of you. You fucking killed it.”

Louis knows he smashed it but hearing it from Harry hits him differently. It makes his bottom lip start to wobble again. “Shut up,” he demands. “I’m not gonna cry again.”

“My sappy darling,” Harry coos, kissing the top of his head again. “My superstar sappy darling who I love so much.” He leans it and presses a very wet kiss to Louis’s ear. “Two thousand people watched you tonight but I’m the only one who gets to take you home. Lucky me.”

“What does that even mean?” Louis glances up at him. “Why would any of the audience members get to take me home?”

Harry shrugs, laughing. “I dunno, I just thought it would make you feel better.”

“You’re the worst, I hate you. And now on top of that you’re leaving me,” Louis simpers, jutting his lip out exaggeratedly. “To celebrate with people who aren’t me, the star of the show.”

“You hated me a second ago,” Harry grins, pulling Louis in for a final quick kiss. “And you’ll see me in an hour. I’ve gotta dash, I can hear them making fun of me through my headset. I love you!”

“Love you too,” Louis grumbles, but he’s smirking as he does so, as he heads back towards the dressing room to get ready for the after party. 

Harry’s heading off to the pub first with all the techs because Steve isn’t coming to the after party but wants to buy all his lot a drink, so Louis and Niall take their time getting ready, cranking up some 90s pop music as they take turns in the shower and spend longer than they need to on their hair. Niall finally slides back on his wedding ring and they share a happy smile about it. It’s a nice end to their time sharing a dressing room, from two strangers to two friends for life, both about to embark on exciting new chapters in their journeys. 

It’s very bittersweet when Louis flicks the light off for the final time. 

“Jesus Christ, what is this? The final scene from  _ Cheers?” _ Niall tuts at him as he stares into it wistfully. “Come on  _ Lewis _ , there’s champagne awaiting!”

“You’re so mean to me,” Louis simpers, shoving him out the door and letting it click closed behind him. “Let me have a moment.” He smooths down his shirt, checking out his reflection in one of the costume mirrors one last time. “Harry would let me have my moment.”

“Harry ain’t here,” Niall says dryly. “Now come on, dickhead. Let’s go!”

Harry meets them outside with Todd and Josh, two of the other technicians, and they all pile into a taxi. It’s about a ten minute drive to the venue that Ben has booked out for them and Louis stays pressed to Harry’s side in the back the whole drive, their hands clasped together over Harry’s thigh. 

He knows he’s being a bit of a downer, being all sad and mopey like this, but this show being over feels huge. He’s still not quite sure how time has passed by so quickly and they’re here, on the way to the after party with everyone, ready to say  _ goodbye.  _

He doesn’t feel ready to say goodbye to any of them. 

He’s not worried about not seeing Zayn or Liam - he’s been stuck with those two fuckers since childhood--but it’s been so nice not having to  _ make  _ time. Seeing his best friends every single day and enjoying working with them has been something he didn’t think he’d ever get to do, even though they’re all in the same industry, and he’s going to miss it now Liam is off to be DSM for some children’s Christmas show at another theatre and Zayn is going to be back in his studio, making costumes for an upcoming tour of  _ Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.  _

So it isn’t that he won’t see them, especially now he’s got some time off, but he’s going to miss them more than he’ll ever admit out loud. He knows he’s been shit at making plans now he has a boyfriend and he hates that he’s become that guy, but he vows to make sure they get drunk together at least once a fortnight before he starts as Joseph. 

And then there’s Niall, lovely wonderful Niall. Niall who’s now off to be a father to not one but two little angels that Louis already can’t wait to meet. Niall’s got a great year ahead of him - a panto at another one of London’s massive theatres lined up, followed by another season as Elder Cunningham. He’s got three months off at the start of the year to prepare and help Hailee with everything she’ll need and then a bit of time with the kids as well. Everything sounds like it’s falling into place perfectly for the bloke and Louis truly couldn’t be happier. 

Leigh also has amazing plans. Before she returns for the next run of  _ Mormon,  _ she’s been offered the role of a professional dancer in  _ Strictly Come Dancing  _ and her celebrity partner is going to be Tom Daley. Louis couldn’t be prouder of her.

And then there’s Harry, of course. Harry, who started as an unsure but enthusiastic newbie, who spent the first half of his time on the show being shut down and criticised for anything he did, but is now a proud, confident theatre technician that Louis loves so much. 

He couldn’t be prouder of the person he’s become. 

He nudges Harry’s knees with his, smiling up at him, tilting his head for a kiss that Harry gladly gives him. 

“Love you,” he says, thumbing over Harry’s knuckles, grinning as Harry murmurs the words back.

Ben has booked out a private room at a late-night club Louis has never heard of. When they arrive they’re immediately given a near-overflowing glass of bubbles and there’s waiters laying out plates of little vol-au-vents and finger sandwiches. It all looks very fancy and expensive. A good night ahead is promised, he’s certain. 

Hand still clasped in Harry’s, the pair of them head through into the room, which looks like it’s usually used for events, but for the purpose of tonight all the tables have been pushed against the wall and there’s booze of all kinds laid out for them. Zayn and Liam are standing in the corner chatting to Perrie and her boyfriend. Niall’s waiting outside for Hailee which is exciting because none of them have met her yet. 

“Hey,” Louis greets, dropping Harry’s hand so he can hug his best friends and Perrie, then shakes hands with her partner. “Lovely place, ain’t it? Never knew Ben had it in him to spend so much money on us.”

“I know right,” Liam laughs. “Been moaning about getting a new headset for half the show’s run but  _ this _ he can afford.”

“Lads?” Niall’s voice behind them says. They all turn to see him with his arm around a beautiful woman who’s clearly very pregnant, with a bright smile and a hand resting on her bump “Guys, I want you all to finally meet my Hails.”

“Pleasure,” she greets in her American twang. “Sorry it’s taken me so long to meet you guys. I’ve been on and off bed rest for the last few months.”

“Congratulations,” Harry says warmly, pulling her into a careful hug. “So lovely to finally meet and oh my god, I’m so excited for the two of you.”

“He’s so excited,” Louis tells the rest of the group fondly. “I think he’s quite possibly more excited than Niall, if that’s even a thing.”

“Not a thing,” Niall says loudly, pretending to scowl as Harry touches Hailee’s bump. “She won’t even let my brother do that and here’s our Haz, doing it within seconds. What’s that about, eh?”

“Yeah, make some room for the rest of us, Haz,” Louis laughs, accepting her into a greeting hug as Harry takes a step back and pouts. “Congrats, sweetheart, this is awesome.”

They're still chatting all things baby when Ben stands up on a chair and taps his glass with a knife, silencing everyone for a speech. He clears his throat loudly. 

“I won’t keep you long, I promise. There’s a lot of free booze to get through tonight and I’m not going to keep it from you any longer than I have to.”

Everyone chuckles politely. Harry steps forward enough to drop an arm over Louis’s shoulders. 

“It’s been an absolute honour working with each and every one of you. From you, Jesy, one of the most talented and innovative choreographers I’ve ever worked with to you, Nick, an incredible band leader and all your guys who did the most incredible job from your little orchestra pit. To all the technicians, who the theatre would be dark, both literally and figuratively, without, to Niall, who literally gained two and a bit stone to be the best Elder Cunningham the West End has ever seen.” There’s a whoop as Niall cackles from behind them and bows dramatically. “There’s too many of you to call out individually but this show wouldn’t have been the masterpiece it was without each and every one of you, as I said. So please.” He raises his champagne flute. “A toast to you, the most incredible lot. It’s been an absolute pleasure.”

“To us!” the group all chorus, clinking glasses with those next to them before emptying their drinks. 

“I know a lot of you are off to pastures new and a lot of you are off to do pantomimes and a lot of you are coming back next year for the relaunch of the show because we’re just  _ that _ good, guys!” Everybody laughs and whoops again. “And if you’re not coming back, don’t worry, we’ll all see each other again in a year or so at Louis and Harry’s wedding, I’m sure of it!”

Both Louis and Harry burst out laughing at that, and Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s waist and yells, “Yes, of course you’ll all be invited!”

“And I’m the best man!” Niall calls out, which earns two  _ very  _ indignant noises from Zayn and Liam, which only serves to make the group laugh harder. 

“No fights please, lads,” Ben calls playfully as he raises his glass again. “Now go and get drunk! You’ve bloody earned it!”

Louis doesn’t need telling twice. He grabs Harry’s hand and leads him over to the table lined with pint glasses of beer and starts as he means to go on. 

He’s had seven long, sober months and tonight he’s going to enjoy himself. 

And he really, really does. 

The music is quickly cranked up to loud and shots are passed around everyone, who cheers themselves one more time and neck back vodka. 

And then another one.

And another one. 

Then things get messy very quickly. 

Louis is suddenly very drunk, but it’s just so nice to have a drink and a dance with the people he’s spent so much time with, but only in a work setting. Now he’s able to have a boogie with them all, spinning Leigh around the dancefloor to  _ Sweet Caroline,  _ doing the Conga with Niall and Liam and teaching an bunch of the younger members of the ensemble the dance to  _ Saturday Night _ by Wigfield

He also spends longer than he needs to grinding filthily on Harry for no reason other than he can, but that’s by the by. Harry’s hands feel big on his hips, protective and awed and turned on all at once, and Louis can’t help the way that his inner drunk diva just wants to be a little slut tonight. 

It’s been ages since he’s gotten drunk, sue him. 

When a slower song comes on, Louis turns in Harry’s arms and wraps his arms around his neck, drunkenly swaying them both from side to side. 

Harry’s shirt is untucked, his collar sticking up and his necklaces all tangled. He’s still the most beautiful thing Louis’s ever seen and he tells him that. 

“I think you’re the most beautiful man on this planet,” he mumbles, grinning up at him as Harry’s hands tighten around his hips, pulling him in even closer. “The whole universe, probably.”

“No, you,” Harry says. He bends down for a kiss and it’s very sloppy, but they still both sink into it, really too drunk to have any form of coordination. “You’re the beautifulist.”

“Is that a word?” Louis frowns for a second, then shrugs. “Don’t care. You think I’m beautiful and that’s all that matters.”

“My pretty boyfriend.” Harry tucks his face in Louis’s shoulder, pressing them both so close together they’re not even really dancing anymore, more just swaying and hugging at the same time. “The best thing in my whole entire life and world and arms.”

“Yes,” Louis nods, then pulls back so he can look at Harry properly because what he’s about to say is very serious indeed. “I think you’re the best thing that has  _ ever  _ ever happened to me. I promise.”

“Louis.” Harry’s breath hitches, his lip wobbling. He’s definitely an emotional drunk. “Louis, that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said.”

“Good.” Louis stamps his foot. “And nobody else can say it, only me. I want you to be my most important thing forever.”

“Me too,” Harry slurs, launching forward and kissing him messily again. 

It’s an awkwardly deep and intense drunken confession, especially given where they are, but Louis knows he means every fucking word. 

“God, Louis, I’d give you the world if you wanted me to.” Harry bites his lip, scrunching his face up adorably. “I can’t believe I get to love you.”

Louis slaps his chest and pouts, trying to stop his lip from wobbling. He’s not an emotional drunk but he might become one if Harry carries on. In fact, it’s almost a blessing that the song starts to fade out and changes to one that’s a lot more upbeat before Liam appears and drags Louis away for a cigarette. 

He squeezes Harry’s hand tightly before he goes, giving him a kiss that he hopes conveys how much he echoes the sentiment. 

When the night is winding down a little and people are starting to trickle out, either to go clubbing or go home and sleep the last few months off, Louis finds himself sat on his bum in the corner of the dancefloor with Zayn tucked under one arm and half a glass of red wine in the other. 

“I love you so much,” he slurs, his face tucked in Zayn’s neck. “And I love your stupid husband too.”

“He is stupid,” Zayn agrees, cuddling back into Louis. “Really stupid. But we love him.”

“We do,” Louis agrees. “We love Leem. Leem Payne. Malik-Payne. Our Leem.”

“Leem,” Zayn nods. “And we both love you, you know. Love you so much. Both of us are so…” He pauses to take a swig of his wine. “ _ Proud  _ of you. So proud and happy and we loooove you.”

Louis’s bottom lip wobbles. He is  _ not  _ going to cry again. “I love you too,” he whines instead, cuddling into Zayn even closer. “You’re the best people ever. Everrrr.”

“Oi,” Liam’s voice cries from somewhere behind them. “Get your own husband, you big slut.”

“Get in the hug,” Louis demands, pulling apart from Zayn just enough for Liam to slot in too. Liam’s bigger than both of them so he engulfs them easily, pressing a sloppy, drunken kiss onto each of their cheeks. 

“My two best boys,” he giggles, nosing at Zayn’s cheek before smacking another kiss onto Louis’s forehead. “What you talking about without me?”

“How much we love you, baby,” Zayn coos, drawing Liam in for a song. Louis wrinkles his nose and tries to break away but neither of them let him. 

“ _ Oi.” _

“It was just one little snog,” Zayn promises, squishing his thumb and forefinger close together to demonstrate how small it was. “Very small.”

“No snogs for Louis,” Liam pouts. “Promise. Even if I do love you a lot. No snogs.”

“No snogs,” Louis agrees, but relents and stays in the arms of his two best friends. The music kicks up again to a more upbeat song and Liam drags them both onto the dancefloor, twirling them both under each arm. 

The last thing he remembers is dancing to ABBA with Liam’s arms around his shoulders, shimmying him to  _ Waterloo.  _

Unsurprisingly, when he wakes up he’s got the worst hangover of his life. 

The reason he woke up is because there’s an alarm going off somewhere,  _ his  _ alarm. He feels around on the bed for his phone because the alarm is too loud to be anywhere else, but he ends up smacking the bed in the balls. 

“Louis, what the fuck?” the bed moans. It sounds a lot like Harry. “Turn that shit off right now.”

“I’m trying,” Louis grunts, eventually locating it under the duvet that isn’t really covering either of them. He switches it off and drops the phone onto the floor, then rolls over to see that Harry did indeed make it into bed with him. He looks a little green. “Sorry, darling.”

“Too much noise,” Harry mumbles, not opening his eyes. “Make it stop.”

Louis tuts and makes the move to snuggle into Harry, but Harry tenses and shakes his head, batting him away. Louis whines. 

“Fucking rude.”

“Louis.” Harry cracks one eye open. “I love you very much but if you touch me I will be sick.”

“Charming,” Louis harrumphs, rolling back over and pouting at the wall. He doesn’t feel great himself and the idea of going back to sleep is very appealing, but now he’s woken up he isn’t sure he’ll be able to. He pulls the duvet up to his neck and takes a deep breath, ready to settle against the pillows and give it a good go, when suddenly Harry’s hand pats at his hip. “What?”

“Give me your hand,” Harry mumbles, reaching for it clumsily. “You’re sulking and I want to hold your hand.”

Louis slides his hand into Harry’s, turning onto his back to do so comfortably, and he hates that that’s pretty much all it takes for him to fall back to sleep. It’s not a good sleep by any means - he feels restless and disoriented when he wakes back up, like he hasn’t been asleep at all. 

He also wakes up to the sound of Harry actually being sick in the bathroom which makes his own stomach churn. He sits up clumsily and cringes as Harry pukes again, and then the toilet flushes and he hears Harry’s electric toothbrush buzz to life. 

When he re-emerges he looks very sorry for himself and flops down on the bed, turning towards Louis and holding his arms out for a cuddle. 

“Oh, so now you want a cuddle,” Louis tuts, but he obliges because he wants one just as much. “Is that how it is in this relationship?”

“I’ve been sick, it’s fine,” Harry mumbles into Louis’s belly. “And now I think I might be dying. Literally dying. I don’t think I can go on.”

“My poor baby,” Louis coos, sliding down so he can cuddle him properly. He kisses his sweaty forehead. “Better out than in, I always say.”

“Don’t fucking quote Shrek at me while I’m dying,” Harry moans, wriggling before he settles comfortably against Louis’s chest. “How are you feeling, babe?”

“Weak but I don’t think I’m gonna be sick,” Louis says. Now he can’t hear Harry being sick anymore his stomach seems to have settled, but his head is still pounding. “I think we probably drank half of London.”

“At least,” Harry whines. He’s still wearing his shirt from last night but it’s completely undone and he isn’t wearing trousers either, just his briefs. “I can’t even think about booze right now or I’ll puke again.”

“Take your shirt off,” Louis suggests. “It smells like sick.”

“Urgh.” Harry wriggles the shirt off and drops it off the side of the bed, then closes his eyes again. “I feel too ill to even try and sleep.”

Louis goes to answer, stroking a hand into his boyfriend’s hair as he’s about to offer him a cup of tea, but then Harry lets out an almighty snore, so loud and comical that Louis almost laughs out loud. He settles himself more comfortably against the pillows and allows himself to drift off again for a bit, still hungover but feeling better for having Harry in his arms. 

When he wakes up again an hour or so later, Harry is still asleep next to him but he’s rolled off Louis and onto his belly, so Louis can get out of bed easily. He’s absolutely gagging for a cuppa. 

He boils the kettle and makes his tea, then settles on the sofa with it and turns on the TV, letting some inane Sunday cooking show play in the background as he checks his phone. There’s a text from Liam asking if he got home safe and a text from Niall that just reads ‘ _ help’  _ so he can only assume the lad is as hungover as he is. 

He texts them both back short responses (and sends them a picture of Harry sleeping so they know he’s suffering too) and then promptly spends a disgusting amount of money on a McDonalds on UberEats. Harry only eats fast food like this when he’s hungover so he throws in a box of 20 nuggets, a large fries and a large Sprite in for him too. 

The doorbell rings half an hour later and that finally rouses Harry, who comes and lies face down next to Louis on the sofa as he lays his feast out on the coffee table. 

“Some of that better be for me.”

“Of course, sweet boy,” Louis coos, bending down to kiss his back before shoving the box of nuggets under his nose. “This enough for you?”

“Marry me,” Harry says as he sits up and shoves a nugget in his mouth before he’s even finished the sentence. Louis snorts. “Seriously, I love you for this. Best thing you’ve ever done for me, hands down.”

“Love you too, baby,” Louis says with a grin. He shoves a handful of fries into his mouth and passes Harry the sweet chilli sauce. “Feeling better?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever feel well again,” Harry grumbles as he pulls the lid off the sauce pot. “My head feels like it’s been crushed under a bulldozer.”

“Lovely,” Louis says, reaching forward to steal one of Harry’s nuggets. He gets his hand slapped away. “Oi, dickhead, I only want one.”

“But I need all of these to feel normal again,” Harry whines. Louis’s never seen him this hungover or unwell before and it’s actually kind of funny. “Louis, seriously. Hands off.”

“Prick,” Louis mumbles, shovelling more fries into his mouth. “So I take it we’re not moving for the rest of the day then.”

“Fuck no.” Harry shudders at the very thought. “My vote is we eat this, then we watch a film on the sofa and then we order some more food in a couple of hours.”

“I like the way you think, baby.” Louis moves onto his cheese bites, crunching them happily as Harry takes a big obnoxious slurp of his drink. “Thai food sound good?”

Once they finish their McDonalds, Harry goes and takes the first shower while Louis clears away their cardboard containers, and once Harry’s done in the bathroom he showers and brushes his teeth, then changes into a pair of Harry’s trackie bottoms that are way too long on him and an old top. They settle on the sofa under a blanket and Harry lines up some romcom that Louis has never heard of on Netflix, but he doesn’t really care about the film anyway, not when he’s pulled up against Harry’s chest like this, safe and warm. 

The film plays and Louis snuggles up even closer to Harry, more content with watching his boyfriend than the movie. Even when Harry calls him a creep for starring he can’t take his eyes off him. 

“Hey,” he murmurs softly, tugging Harry’s arms around him tighter. “It’s been a good run, hasn’t it?”

Harry looks at him with alarm. “What, our relationship?”

“Yes, this is me breaking up with you,” Louis deadpans, swatting at him. “No, you fool. The show. I think it’s my favourite show I’ve ever done.”

“Yeah?” Harry tangles their fingers together and kisses his knuckles. “Because I was there, duh.”

“Yes,” Louis agrees, unabashed, because it’s true. Meeting Harry and falling in love has been the best thing that’s happened to him all year and the fact that they met on the set of his favourite show to date is an incredible bonus. “I think if anyone had told me a year ago I’d meet someone like you and finish the year being this happy then I’d have laughed at them. At the very least I wouldn’t have believed them.”

“Sap,” Harry tuts, but he leans down and pecks Louis on the lips anyway. “Yeah, same though. I literally said to my sister on New Year’s Eve that I wanted to find my person this year and she scoffed at me but.” He shrugs and grins, kissing Louis again soundly. “I was right.”

“Sap,” Louis echoes with an eye roll. “And I mean, all things with Peter aside I hope you loved it too. I loved working with you and having you be there on show days and seeing you go from this enthusiastic beginner to a truly seasoned theatre technician. It’s been so great to watch, babe.”

“Stop it,” Harry blushes. “I’m hardly seasoned after one show, but I did enjoy myself. It’s gonna be weird not working with you though.”

“Same,” Louis says as he toys with one of Harry’s rings. Not working with Harry and not working with his best friends is going to be a weird transition, but he’s done it before so he’ll get on with it. All things considered, he’s been spoiled rotten with his experience on  _ The Book of Mormon  _ and that’s one of the reasons he’s been so reluctant for it to end. 

But the show, as they say, must go on and Louis intends to play the best Joseph that West End has ever seen. For now though, he doesn’t really have to think about that as he’s got three glorious months off before he starts rehearsals, with only a few days of work scheduled between now and then. Harry’s off for the next week while the theatre recovers from the show and Louis intends to spend it wisely - doing nothing much aside from having sex and letting his boyfriend bake him sweet treats with all the dairy he wants to add into them. 

If he’s honest with himself, he can’t imagine feeling any more content in life than he feels right now, his hangover mostly gone and wrapped in the arms of the man he thinks he’s going to marry one day. The curtain might have come down and the year might be about to come to an end, but Louis has no doubt that things are on the up. 

Life doesn’t get much better than this. 

He pulls Harry down for a deep, but gentle kiss, licking into his mouth in a way he hopes conveys how much he loves him, and smiles as they break apart, giggling as Harry leans back down to rub their noses together in an Eskimo kiss. 

They  _ really  _ are a pair of saps. 


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of abuse/attempted assault in this chapter!! It’s only mentioned in one paragraph and it’s not a detailed description of the abuse but please be aware!!

**‘I would not wish any companion in the world but you’**

**(The Tempest – Act 3, Scene 1)**

  
  


A few nights later they’re laying in Harry’s bed, ankles hooked together under the duvet and each with one of Harry’s AirPods in,  _ The Lumineers  _ playing softly. Louis is on his phone scrolling through his various social media accounts while Harry has his book propped open on his lap, Louis’s glasses perched on his nose because he doesn’t want to admit he needs his own yet. It’s very domestic and lovely, if you ask Louis.

“S’payday tomorrow,” Louis remarks, locking his phone and taking note of the date on his screen. Harry hums and nods, reaching out to run his fingers through Louis’s fringe. 

“We should go out for dinner,” he suggests. Louis nods against his hand. “Can’t believe it’s basically December already.” He looks down and smiles at Louis. “What a good year it’s been, eh?”

“It has,” Louis hums, hand coming up to curl around Harry’s jaw. He pulls him down for a kiss, smiling into it as Harry shifts so they’re at a comfier angle. He slides down under the duvet and Louis throws a leg over him, sinking into it, losing his phone somewhere amongst the pillows.

And then for whatever reason, he remembers.

_ December _ .

Their run at the theatre is over and he was going to head back up north to spend the festive season with his family and school friends, especially once the school holidays came around and he could spend all day with his siblings. He wasn’t sure how long he wanted to spend up there - the joys of being self-employed - but it also meant that when he had signed the lease on his flat, he’d only planned to stay in it until the end of the year. With everything that’s been going on, he’d completely forgotten about it. 

Which means that after this month, he won’t have anywhere to live in London, unless he has a reason to find somewhere to stay.

Which he didn’t before, but now he  _ definitely _ does.

His brain seems to have caught up with his lips and frozen, because Harry pulls back and frowns at him, concern written on his gorgeous features.

“Lou?”

“I, um… sorry, love.” Louis licks his lips and pulls his AirPod out, then pulls Harry’s out too. It’s Serious Talk Time, apparently. “I just remembered something.”

Harry scratches his chin. “Oh,” is all he says. “Um, everything okay? Did you forget something?”

“Kind of,” Louis says, coaxing Harry down so they’re flat on the pillows, face to face. “My, um, my flat lease is up next week, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Harry says again. “That’s annoying.”

“ _ Annoying _ ,” Louis parrots, baffled. Annoying isn’t the word he’d use, perhaps, but Harry’s mind does work in mysterious ways. “Yeah, a bit annoying I suppose. I’ll need to renew it or, like, find a roommate or something.” He bites his lip again.

“A roommate?” Harry questions, and his frown deepens. “Why would you want a roommate? Don’t you like living by yourself?”

“I do like living by myself,” Louis replies honestly, heart beating a little faster. Clearly Harry hasn’t quite picked up on what he means by roommate. “But you know, London is pricey to live in and I reckon if we -  _ I -  _ went for a bigger place there’d be more room for mine and my roommate’s stuff, you know?”

Harry pouts. “Yeah, but why would you need a roommate for a bigger place, Lou? And, like, stuff wise, a lot of your things are here anyway, so if anything you’d need a smaller place.”

“Yeah, but,” Louis counters, fighting the urge to roll his eyes, “what if my roommate and I got a one-bedroom place that was really big, comfortably enough to fit both our stuff?”

“What are you talking about?” Harry looks truly baffled. “Why would you want a one-bed place with a roommate? What if  _ I _ want to stay over? Where’s the roommate sleeping?”

“ _ Harry _ ,” Louis practically yells, putting his hands on Harry’s shoulders and shaking him lightly, “please, baby, tell me you’re not this dense.”

“Louis,” Harry scolds lightly. He’s still pouting, confusion and irritation still fresh on his face. Louis loves him so much. “I don’t…”

“I want you to be my roommate, you great big beautiful idiot.” He cups Harry’s face in his hands and kisses the corner of his mouth, just lightly, then his nose, then his chin. “I want to move into a place that’s just ours and it’s both our things and there’s one bedroom and we share a bed and it’s ours.” He grins. “No other roommates, darling, I promise. Just you and me.”

“Yeah?” Harry asks, almost timidly. His expression has softened, his eyes now bright and shiny and happy in that way that makes Louis want to just hold him forever and never let go. “You want to get a place together?”

“Yes, my darling, I really do.”

“Lou,” Harry breathes out, and suddenly they’re kissing; there’s hands everywhere, breath hot and teeth sharp. They kiss until they can’t because they’re both smiling too wide and they’re just hugging, and even then Louis can’t help but smack kisses into whatever parts of Harry he can reach - his cheek, his jaw, his neck, his shoulder. 

“You’re lovely,” he mumbles happily, curling his fingers around one of Harry’s necklaces and tugging him down for a kiss. “God, I can’t wait for this.”

“Me neither,” Harry says, moving down so he can roll Louis onto his back. He dips down and boxes Louis in, kissing him two, three, four times in quick succession. “Oh my god, I’m getting a flat with a  _ boy.” _

Louis cackles at that. “A boy,” he parrots, rolling his eyes fondly before he pulls Harry down for another load of kisses. He doesn’t want to ever stop kissing him. “Not just a boy, baby.  _ Your _ boy, I think you’ll find.” 

“My boy,” Harry echoes. “My Louis. My wonderful, valiant, handsome boyfriend who I love so much.”

“I love you too,” Louis says, moaning as Harry ducks down to kiss him once again. It turns dirty fast and Harry’s hands feel like they’re everywhere - across his back, on his bum, in his hair - and pretty soon their clothes, electronics and books have been discarded on the floor as they tangle together, rutting against each other as they kiss languidly. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Harry moans out as Louis breaks the kiss to suck at Harry’s neck. “God, want this every day.”

“You’ll have it every day,” Louis grins, grinding against Harry’s leg. “We’ll fuck on every surface of the new flat, I promise.” Another kiss to his neck. “Let’s buy a massive California king bed and fuck in that too.” Louis gasps as Harry jerks underneath him, then he moans, long and broken. “Yeah, you like that?”

“God, living with you is gonna be unreal,” Harry groans, spreading his legs under Louis. “We’re gonna have so much sex and I’m gonna do so much baking.”

“Yeah?” Louis kisses down to Harry’s chest, pressing a kiss over each of his tattoos. “Which of those are you more excited for?”

“The baking,” Harry says very seriously. Louis raises an eyebrow and puts a hand on his cock in retaliation, squeezing the tip through his boxers. Harry grunts and jerks. “Okay, it’s the sex, definitely the sex.”

“Good,” Louis says happily, then crawls back up Harry’s body and spends the next hour giving Harry a sneak preview of what living-together sex will be like. 

Making the decision to move in together feels like the easiest decision ever and they start booking flat viewings literally the following day. Harry’s flat is former student accommodation so he has it on a rolling lease that he can terminate at any time and Louis has two weeks left on his (honestly he’s so chaotic, he can’t believe he didn’t remember) so he agrees to move into Harry’s on a temporary basis if they don’t find the perfect flat straight away. They’ll double up on a lot of furniture at first, but Louis isn’t too worried about his stuff and has been half-tempted to start completely afresh when he gets the new place. It’s something they’ll work out. 

It feels so right in his mind, but it seems others aren’t so sure. 

“Bloody hell, you move fast,” Lottie tells him over FaceTime one night. Louis scowls at her. “What? You do.”

“I do not,” Louis snaps. “I was with Henry for like four years before I lived with him. That’s slow, if anything.”

“Exactly,” Lottie tuts. “And you said at one point you were gonna marry him.”

“This is different,” Louis says hotly. He wraps an arm around himself defensively. “I feel like I would have moved in with Harry from day one, I’m that sure of him.”

“Louis, I love you like mad, but I’m just… I’m worried,” Lottie says, scratching her chin with her perfectly manicured nail. “I haven't met the kid yet. And I spoke to Dad on the phone a few days ago and he didn’t even know you were serious enough to move in with him.”

Uncomfortable heat shoots through Louis’s belly. “Yeah, but I barely talk to him anyway so I don’t know what he expects.”

“He still cares, Lou,” Lottie says softly. “You’ll still be spending Christmas with all of us, won’t you?” She glares at him. “Won’t you?”

“Yes, yes,” Louis assures her. “And yes, Harry will probably come with me too.” He sighs. “Moving in with him is just… it’s the right thing to do.”

“How so?”

“You want to try paying London prices on your own for a decent flat,” he argues weakly. 

“Louis, I already do,” Lottie says gently. “And you did too for two and a bit years, so don’t even try it.”

Louis rubs at his eyes. “Look, I know it’s fast, I do, butI love him more than anything, Lotts.” He shrugs weakly. “I know it’s soon and I know it might be seen as rash but like.” He shrugs again. “He’s my person.”

Lottie’s expression softens. “Lou,” she says, and Louis suddenly wants nothing more than a hug from his sister. “That’s amazing that you feel that way, it really is. And I guess I’m just shocked because I’ve not even met him yet but this is so… it’s not like you to move this fast, that’s all.”

Louis shrugs awkwardly. “I’ve just been spending all my time with him, like.” Another shrug. “I haven’t been without him basically since we started dating.”

“You’re alone now,” Lottie points out. “And you’re FaceTiming me instead of seeing me in person, arsehole. It’s been too long.”

“I know, I know. He’s at work anyway,” Louis hums. “I miss you a lot, you know. Sorry I’ve been a shit brother.”

“Miss you too,” Lottie says with a smile. “Look, if anyone deserves to find someone amazing it’s you, absolutely. Just… let’s go out for dinner one night so I can at least meet the poor sod, yeah? Now that we don’t have a mum, someone needs to share all your embarrassing stories.”

“Listen, I’m pretty sure you could tell Harry I murdered ten people as a kid and he’d still love me,” Louis says, and even though it’s a bloody ridiculous claim he knows it’s true. 

“Gross.” Lottie wrinkles her nose. “Can’t wait for this then. My single ass sat between your soppy selves. Dickheads.”

There’s no heat behind her words and Louis is pretty sure she gets it. He doesn’t quite understand why they haven’t met yet, but he is also aware he has been bad when it comes to monopolising Harry’s time. Now Louis isn’t working they literally just spend all their evenings as a pair in the flat. Once he’s hung up the phone to Lottie he immediately texts Niall and makes plans to see him the following day for lunch and a cheeky pint. 

Niall has a similar initial reaction to Lottie. 

“Bloody hell, you two move fast.”

Louis rolls his eyes over the top of his pint. “Et tu, Brute?”

“Hey, I’m not here to judge,” Niall says, holding up his hands. “It just seems soon, that’s all.”

Louis shrugs. “It makes sense for where we’re at, I think. My flat lease was up and I didn’t really want to stay there anyway. We’re together all the time anyway so we may as well cut our shared costs and move in with each other.”

“Oh, I get it,” Niall says. “London rent prices are crippling at the best of times. S’why Hails and I are looking at moving out of London, but we reckon we’ve left it too late before the twins are born.”

“See?”

“But Hailee and I are married,” Niall continues, ignoring Louis’s pout. “And we didn’t get a mortgage together for like three years.”

“We’re not buying a property,” Louis says, scandalised. “Fucking hell, I know we made a good bob on the show, but not enough to  _ buy _ a place, bloody hell.”

Niall lets out a sigh. “Oh thank god,” he says, pretending to wipe sweat from his brow. “God, you had us worried there for a bit, Tommo.”

“Us?” Louis narrows his eyes. “Who’s us?”

“Um.” Niall suddenly looks very interested in the food menu. “Me and… Hailee?”

“How did you ever make it as an actor?” Louis glares at him. 

“Look,” Niall says, setting down the menu and looking at Louis reproachfully. “I’ve just been, like, talking to Liam about it a bit, that’s all. He thought you were buying a place together and we just, like, wondered if we should… maybe talk you out of signing a mortgage with someone you’d only known for six months.”

“Does everyone think I’m a total idiot or something?” Louis scowls into his drink. “I know it’s too soon to get a bloody house with him. I know it’s probably too soon for us to move in together, given that everyone else I spoke to has told me they think it’s too early, but we know what we’re doing. Fucking hell.”

Niall gapes at him. “Neither of us think you don’t know what you’re doing,” he says slowly. “It’s just a big step. I didn’t move in with Hailee until we’d been together for nearly two years.”

“And I didn’t move in with my ex-boyfriend for four years and then he fucked off after two months,” Louis snaps. “Time has nothing to do with it, Ni.” He sighs. “Sorry. I don’t mean to sound so aggy about it, but literally everyone has been so skeptical and I’m sick of it.”

“It comes from a place of love,” Niall tells him gently, giving his arm a squeeze. “And obviously we love Harry too. I’ve known him the same amount of time I’ve known you and I’d consider him just as much my friend as you, even though we hang out more. It’s just… it’s soon, that’s all. Not many people are ready to move in with their partners at six months.”

Louis looks down at the table, dipping his finger into the condensation from his beer and swirling it around. “I, um.” He clears his throat. “Do you know of many people who know at six months that this is the person they want to marry?”

Niall’s expression softens. “Oh, Lou.”

Louis shrugs, still not looking up. “I don’t know how to explain it, mate. I know I sound like a right sappy prick but it’s how I feel. And I think he feels the same.”

“Yeah?” Niall squeezes his arm again. “That’s awesome, Lou, honestly.”

“Yeah,” Louis says. “I can’t explain it, like, I don’t know if it’s because I’ve literally spent every single day with him since we started dating or because our schedule was so off during  _ Mormon _ that we just got used to being around each other, but when I asked him if he wanted to move in with me he told me he’d been thinking about it since the start of our relationship.”

“You two are something else,” Niall chuckles. “Sappy fucks.” He takes a swig of his beer, draining the glass and belching. “Alright, well. I’m not here to tell you not to do it or anything, it’s just… to the untrained eye, it seemed like a quick decision. But you’re you two, ain’t you? You really do have some kinda soulmate shit going on between the pair of you.”

“Um, thanks?”

“It’s a good thing,” Niall laughs. “And it’s nice to hear you so excited about it. I think it’s good to hear you talk about it without any worry.”

Louis frowns. “Why would I be worried?  _ Should _ I be worried?”

“No, that’s my point,” Niall tuts. “The fact that neither of you feel like you’re moving too fast even though, objectively, you guys are moving pretty fast, is good. And none of us were talking about you with any kind of real worry, like, we both know you’re gross and kind of obsessed with one another. It’s just like, obviously I’m married and Liam and Zayn are married and we worried that you two forgot you weren’t married yet.”

“ _ Yet, _ ” Louis says with a grin. “Because it’s going to happen, Neil. I’m going to marry Harry so hard just to prove you fuckers wrong.”

Niall snorts. “That’s the spirit. Fucking pair of weirdos, you two are.”

Louis does know and he believes Niall, even if it feels a little patronising and over-protective, but he gets that it comes from a place of love. He’s going to kill Liam for talking to Niall before him though, so on the way home from his dinner, he rings him.

“Hi, Lou,” Liam answers on the third ring. He can hear music in the background and it sounds like he’s cooking something. “How’s things?”

“Hi, dickhead,” he says hotly, hoping that because Liam can’t see his face he sounds angrier than he really is. “I just had a  _ rather  _ interesting conversation with our Nialler. He told me you’ve been talking some shit about Harry and I moving in together.”

“Huh?” The music turns off and there’s a loud rustling sound before Liam’s voice comes through the phone clearer, loud and panicked. “No, I didn’t. What are you talking about?”

“Niall just told me that you two have been saying that it’s  _ way _ too soon for us to move in with each other,” Louis says, only a little bit gleeful when he hears Liam splutter and protest. “Well? Explain yourself, prick.”

“We didn’t say that,” Liam shrills. “Why would he say that?”

“So you admit you were talking about me behind my back?”

“I… kind of?” Liam sighs. “Don’t be mad, I’m sorry. I hate talking about you to anyone that isn’t Zayn…”

Louis lets out an indignant squeak. “ _ Charming _ .”

“But Zayn keeps telling me to drop it because it’s your life and you’re clearly super happy,” Liam continues. “And I just needed to ask someone else who knows you both if I was panicking for no reason.”

“Fucking asshole,” Louis growls. “Why didn’t you come and talk to me first?”

“Because, would you have listened?” Liam asks, then sighs again. “Are you really mad at me?”

Louis pauses, tempted to make Liam sweat a bit more, but he’s not  _ that  _ much of a prick. “Not really,” he says in a voice that’s a lot more cheery, and he giggles as he pictures Liam’s face drop. It’s a look he knows well and has been on the receiving end of in the flesh more than once in his life. “Oh, come on Leem, don’t sigh at me.”

“Fucking bastard,” Liam hisses. “You really had me thinking you were pissed at me then.”

“You should listen to your husband more,” Louis tells him. “You should have dropped it. You shouldn’t feel the need to go to Niall before talking to me, for the love of god.” He rubs at his eyes. “Are you really that worried about me?”

“I’m always worried about you,” Liam admits. “I can’t help it.” He pauses. “And I’m only worried that it’s too soon because it’s literally so soon, Lou. Like under half a year and you’re moving in together? Who does that?”

“You know it’s just renting, right? Neither of us are tied into anything.”

“But you’re tied into each other,” Liam says. “You’re tied to one another like no couple I’ve ever known.”

Louis snorts. “What does that even mean?”

“It means that you two are inseparable and I just... “ Liam sighs again. “I’ve known you for over a decade, mate, and I’ve never seen you like this about anyone. And I feel like if you were on the outside looking in at your relationship you’d think the same as me, I dunno.”

“Maybe.” Louis crosses the road he’s walking down and ducks into the little supermarket there to grab some wine and another pack of condoms - his Friday night essentials, apparently. “But Li, hear me say this now because I’ve fucking told everyone this now so I’m, like, putting it out there into the universe or some shit, but I’m gonna marry Harry. I’m gonna marry him, I  _ know _ it.”

“Fucking hell,” Liam mutters. “I never thought I’d hear you say those words ever in my life. I don’t know whether to call you out for being a sappy bastard or tell you how proud I am for finding someone you actually can see yourself marrying.”

Louis snorts. “You should do both, probably.” He tucks the phone between his ear and his shoulder so he can grab the wine and put it in the basket. “Where’s Zayn in all this?”

“Oh, he’s here,” Liam tells him. “He’s been listening in this entire time, keeping his mouth shut.”

“I just think you’re both fucking stupid,” Zayn’s voice calls, and Louis bursts out laughing. “Let the man live, Liam and leave my husband alone, Louis. Jesus fucking Christ.”

“You see? Why can’t you be more like Zayn?” Louis asks snidely. 

“Hello,” Zayn’s voice interrupts, sounding much louder all of a sudden, like Liam’s either put him on speaker or he’s taken the phone from him. “Listen, asshole, stop overanalyzing everything. You didn’t move in with Henry for four years because it felt too soon, so I can only imagine that feeling like moving in after six months is a good thing because you’re not at all apprehensive about that step and having a future with Harry, you know? And also, and babe, I do love you very much, but when has Liam’s opinion ever stopped you?”

“ _ Hey. _ ”

“Well?” Zayn laughs, then he hears the smacking noise of a kiss. “I stayed out of it because you, my darling, are a flappy mother hen and Louis is an impulsive but mostly sensible drama queen, so I’ve left you to it. I like Harry a lot and I think you’re doing it for the right reasons. And, you know, if it does all go tits up for the pair of you, god forbid, then we’ll be there to pick up the pieces, you know we will.”

Louis grins even though he knows the pair of them can’t see him. “Thanks, Zee.” He chucks a pack of condoms in the basket and then, on second thoughts, grabs another one just in case. “But I’m serious about marrying him. I’m going to do it to spite you, Liam, if nothing else.”

“Thanks,” Liam says dryly, just as Zayn says, “Atta boy!” and the three of them burst out laughing, which dispels any lingering tension, not that there was any real tension there. Louis just likes to see Liam sweat and Liam just likes to worry too much about Louis, and that’s been the way since they were both teenagers. It’ll probably _ always _ be the way.

“Right, I’m hanging up now so I can pay for my condoms and wine and then go home and shag my boyfriend,” Louis says cheerily. “This conversation was crap, let’s never do it again.”

“You fucking started it,” Liam grumbles. “Goodnight, arsehole.”

“Bye Louis, love you!” Zayn yells before the phone goes dead. Louis grins as he shoves his phone back in his pocket and goes to pay for his goodies, then grins for the whole walk home. 

That’s four people in two days he’s told he’s going to marry Harry and they’re four of the most important people to him in the world. And even though they can all be overbearing bastards at times, he knows it comes from a place of love and he appreciates it.

Even if they are all wrong and it isn’t too soon at all.

He lets himself into the flat and his grin getting even wider as he sees Harry on the sofa, two glasses of wine already on the coffee table.

“Hi, love,” he says merrily, dumping the carrier bag onto the chair in the corner and moving straight to give Harry a welcome kiss. Harry tugs him down onto the sofa next to him in one smooth movement and he squeaks, but lets himself get comfy in Harry’s lap as Harry wraps his arms around his waist and draws him in. “Oof, hello indeed.”

“Hi, sunshine,” Harry beams and kisses him again. He’s shirtless, because of course he is, and he’s lovely and warm, cheeks a little pink from the wine. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Louis says. He still gets that warm gooey feeling in his tummy when Harry says things like that. “Did you get much packing done?”

Harry had opted not to join him and Niall in favour of packing. His closet is so large that packing it up has been a full time job in itself. “Kind of?”

Louis snorts. “So much packing you’re here on the sofa drinking wine as what? A reward?”

“Did you have a good evening with Niall?” Harry says, hand scratching light at his scalp as he not-very-subtly changes the subject. Louis nods.

“I did,” he replies, then yawns. He decides not to mention the conversation with Liam and Zayn, not because he didn’t mean any of it but more because he doesn’t want Harry to feel like his two best friends have any doubts over their relationship. “He showed me a picture of Hailee from earlier today and my god, she’s ready to pop.”

“We need to sort what we’re getting for the babies because the due date is creeping up.”

“We do,” Louis agrees. “Have you had any ideas?”

“I was thinking about getting them a family photoshoot?” Harry bites his lip. “A mate of mine is a photographer and does that whole portrait of newborns thing.”

“That’s really sweet,” Louis says with a nod. “I’ll chip in, of course. I mean, are we doing joint presents?”

“Yeah, duh,” Harry chuckles. “I thought that was implied.”

“Just checking,” Louis says, squeezing Harry’s knee. “You know, just because we’re a couple doesn’t mean we do all the same stuff or have to give the same present, you know?”

Harry frowns, looking all cute and confused. “Doesn’t it? Why, did you have something else you wanted to give the babies?”

Louis shakes his head. “No, babe. I just wanted to make sure you knew, like, that we’re not joined at the hip if you don’t want to be.”

“Well, I’m quite happy being joined at the hip with you,” Harry says, leaning down for a kiss. “Why, are you not happy?”

“Shut up, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been,” Louis says, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck and kissing him again soundly. He feels placated now because Niall is right—sometimes you just need to hear it from the person that they’re happy. Not that he ever doubted Harry was happy, not at all, but it still makes him smile when Harry says things like that.

And he wants all the domesticity that living with Harry is going to bring. He wants the joint presents and the plus one invitations and the drawer of pre-purchased birthday cards that they can sign from both of them. It’s exciting in a way that makes him feel old and settled, but he really quite likes it.

They spend the rest of the evening drinking the wine and listening to a cheesy Spotify playlist of Harry’s, chatting away before they’re tipsy enough to start dancing with each other, alternating between being silly and slow-dancing while they kiss and hold each other close. They don’t end up going to bed until way past 3am but it feels so fun and domestic, like they’d rather spend their Friday nights around their living room than at a bar or a club.

Louis doesn’t understand how this could ever feel too soon,  _ honestly. _

He thinks they’re pretty much off scot free now that everyone seems to be on board with them moving in together, even though it  _ is  _ soon, when one evening Harry turns up at Louis’s flat after work looking distressed and tired and panicked, so Louis rushes to let him in. 

“Baby,” he says, pulling Harry into his arms the second his coat is off. “What on earth is the matter?”

“I love you,” Harry mumbles, tucking his face into Louis’s neck. “I love you so much and I want this so much.”

Confused and now a little panicked himself, Louis cuddles him even tighter. “I love you too,” he says slowly. “But you’re kind of scaring me, darling. What’s going on?”

Harry sighs and slowly pulls away from Louis, licking his lips like he always does when he’s nervous. “We need to talk?” he says, phrasing it like a question.

“Do we?” Louis says, hating how defensive he is already. “Haz, I’m really confused right now.”

“Look, it’s not that big of a deal… well.” Harry presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I need you to tell me if I’m being dramatic or overthinking this or what. Because I know what I want…”

“Harry,” Louis cuts in, gently coaxing his hands away from his face. “Talk to me.”

“I love the idea of living with you,” Harry starts to say earnestly, but he’s fidgeting as he says it. Louis’s stomach drops. “I really do, Lou, and please don’t think I’m backing out cos I’m… I’m not, I promise.”

“But?” Louis croaks, unable to stop his voice from cracking. 

“It’s just cos I was talking to my sister on the phone today and I told her we were getting a place together in January, and she kind of… flipped at me?”

Louis furrows his brow. “Uh, why?”

“She just thinks it’s way too soon,” Harry shrugs. “She hasn’t even met you yet and I’ve never lived with a partner before. Like, even when my ex and I moved down to London together we didn’t move in with each other. She’s worried I’m rushing into things to make you happy.”

Louis frowns. “Do you think you are?”

“No,” Harry says without hesitation. “I love you so much, Lou, and moving in with you has been a fucking fantasy of mine since we met and I realised I had a crush on you. I can’t wait to live with you, baby.”

“But…” Louis says, phrasing it like a question.

“Well, she’s put me off telling my mum,” Harry mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Because now I’m scared she’s going to react the same.”

“I… have you explained that it’s nothing to do with not wanting to meet them, it’s that we literally haven’t had the time yet?” asks Louis.

“Yeah, and I said we’ll definitely be coming up in December and you’ll be with me—if you want to, but I’d love that…”

“Harry, I really want to meet your family.” Louis sidles up and wraps his arms around him. “I want everything with you, darling. You’re my boyfriend and it’s not… I’m not dating you to just kinda see where it goes or anything. I’m dating you with the intention of this being a pretty permanent thing.”

“Same,” Harry assures him. “But I’ve never had a relationship where it’s actually going somewhere before and they know that. Gemma just worries about me because I didn’t exactly have the best time at school, or at uni really. I was one of the only queer kids and I was a bit weird and all my friends were girls and people were dicks, you know how it is. Plus she didn’t like Kendall all that much either.” 

“I do know how it is,” Louis says. “And just so you know, it’s no skin off my nose if you’ve not had a relationship like this before. If anything, other people are losing out because you’re very good at this boyfriend business.”

Harry snorts. “Thanks, pal.”

“Anytime,” Louis says breezily. “And hey, I’ve only been in two relationships before, lived with one. I was with Henry for four years before we got our place together and we lived in it for two months before it all went to shit, but would like to stress here and now that I really thought Henry and I…” He takes a pause, swallowing nervously, because even now he hates talking about Henry and that particular time period. It’s incredible that even thinking about his name can plunge Louis into the worst mood of his life. 

“I thought we were gonna be together forever. We got the place together because we’d talked about marriage and things like that.” He takes both of Harry’s hands in his. “And the thing is, I know full well that you would never do to me what he did, so. I feel pretty confident in moving in with you this early because I think you’re brilliant and I see an incredible future with you and I know you won’t throw away our relationship by making an irreparable drunken fuck-up.”

Harry doesn’t speak for a couple of seconds, then leans forward and bundles Louis into a tight, all-encompassing hug. Louis curls himself into Harry’s hold, trying to make himself feel as small and safe as possible.  _ Fuck,  _ he knew he would have to have the Henry conversation at some point but he didn’t realise it would have been today. He would have given himself a better pep-talk this morning if he did. 

“You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready,” mumbles Harry, like he can sense Louis’s panic. Louis shakes his head and guides them over to the sofa, where he all but climbs into Harry’s lap. He knows Harry isn’t stupid and has put two and two together about Louis keeping some bits about his past relationship private, but he’s not sure he’ll be expecting what Louis is about to tell him. 

“It’s about time I told you,” he says, and he does mean that. Their break-up was one of the worst nights of Louis’s life and he still thinks about it even now, six months into a relationship with a man he loves so much who treats him completely differently. He wonders if he’ll ever stop thinking about Henry, whether one day it’ll just be a distant memory. He clears his throat and continues. “I want to tell you, but I don’t want you to, like, feel sorry for me or anything, yeah?”

Harry nods, eyes full of confusion, so Louis scrambles to sit up a little higher and cups Harry’s face in his hands. 

“I mean that, baby. I love you and I want to tell you this, but I know it’s going to make you angry and sad and upset, and I need you to know that I am okay now, okay? It was a long time ago and I’m so happy with you now and I’m okay.”

Harry looks confused and terrified and preemptively angry all at once. Louis adores him. “Okay,” he agrees.

Louis braces himself for the reaction. “Henry hit me,” he rushes out, all in one breath. 

Harry chokes on air, eyes wide in horror, so Louis squeezes both his hands and barrels on. “Only once and he was drunk when he did it, but it was… it was a bad hit.” He tilts his head to the left, where there’s still a small, shallow scar from Henry’s fingernail. “He didn’t break my jaw or anything but a back tooth dislodged and is now permanently wobbly, fun fact.”

“I…” Harry starts, then snaps his mouth back closed. “What the fuck?” His voice sounds like it’s about to break when he croaks out, “But how could he?”

Louis tugs him closer, wanting to be held. Harry goes easily and willingly. “Throughout the course of our whole relationship, I was pretty much the breadwinner. I was really lucky - I came to London and basically fell on my feet, started auditioning for shows pretty much straight away and I did a lot of well-paying roles. He was working as an usher in one of my first theatres down here and we hit it off, jumped into a relationship pretty quickly, and everything felt like it had just fallen nicely into place for me for a while.”

“From the start I knew he hated his job. He hated working evenings and weekends and he didn’t really love working in a theatre, you could tell. I don’t think he really understood theatre, but he made bits of effort here and there because obviously it’s my whole entire life. It seemed like he wanted to get to know the industry and he would come to shows with me when I got free tickets, things like that.” 

Louis sighs and rubs at one of his eyes. Hindsight really is 20:20, he thinks, because looking back he and Henry weren’t nearly as compatible as he thought they were, yet he stayed with him for so long because he made something of an effort,  _ sometimes. _

“About three years into our relationship, I was playing Sky in  _ Mamma Mia!  _ and he got a job as a manager for this trendy bar and restaurant place up in Soho that I hadn’t really heard of. Proper exclusive place it was, I dunno. Celebs would drink there and they were  _ proper  _ celebs, not us lot from the theatre but telly actors and pop singers and stuff. And suddenly he didn’t seem to mind working weekends and evenings because he would come home and show me pictures of him with Adele or Stormzy or whatever, you know. Proper celebrities.”

“He sounds like a prick already,” Harry murmurs, and he kisses the top of Louis’s head.

“Yeah, well, he was.” Louis shrugs. “And with this new job came a new paycheque, and suddenly he was making more than enough money to just cover his portion of the rent, that kind of thing. He started going out more and drinking with his work buddies and we barely saw each other for the final, like, six or seven months of our relationship. Which again, was one of those things you don’t pick up on until you can see it with hindsight, you know?”

“Anyway, one night at like 2am he stumbles in and he’s super drunk, right? Absolutely off his face, he was. And he got into bed reeking of it and he wanted to have sex. I said no and I tried to get out of the bed, away from him because he kept trying to push me back on my back. He was a lot bigger than me and it just… it was horrible. I was really genuinely scared for a few minutes there.”

“I fucking hate him,” Harry growls. His grip on Louis tightens and Louis is grateful, because he hasn’t told this story out loud in years and his head feels like it might spin off his body. “How could he fucking do that to you?”

“He followed me into the living room,” Louis continues, and he  _ hates  _ how wobbly his voice has gotten. “I told him to fuck off and to go to sleep, that I was going to sleep on the sofa. He could barely speak and he kept saying no, that he couldn’t sleep without me next to him and that he loved me and wanted to have sex. He had me cornered against the doorframe at this point so I was trying to like shove him off, and I was getting angrier and more scared and louder and so he just, like, punched me right in the face and told me to shut the fuck up.”

The gasp and the full body shudder that follow his words are enough to make Louis want to cry. “Are you fucking serious?” Harry snarls, his grip on Louis tightening to the point where Louis thinks it might hurt in a minute. “Are you fucking… did he actually? I’ll kill him.”

“No, you won’t,” Louis says softly, nosing at Harry’s cheek. “The second he did it, it was like the world fucking stopped turning. We both just looked at each other like we couldn’t believe what had just happened, which I fucking couldn’t, and then he collapsed to the floor and started literally begging at my feet. He was crying and I was crying and he just kept hiccuping out apology after apology, saying he loved me and all the things you’d expect him to say.”

“I can’t fucking believe…” Harry cuts himself off and just continues to hold onto Louis, tucking his face into his neck and taking several deep breaths. “I’m sorry, I’m just so… I’m so fucking  _ angry,  _ Lou. I know you asked me not to be but how can I not be?”

“I haven’t seen him since that night,” Louis tells him, hoping that fact alone brings Harry some comfort. It sure as hell brings him comfort. “I kicked him out, told him to fuck off and that I didn’t want to see him for a few days.” He laughs self-deprecatingly. “Somehow that few days turned into two years and I barely noticed.”

“Jesus,” Harry mutters. “So he just moved out?”

Louis nods. “Pretty much. The next day he messaged Lottie and said he wanted to give me space and could she please drop his stuff at this Premier Inn near his work. So we did just that - we packed all his shit up and took it round there and left it behind the front desk. The fucker wasn’t even there to collect it himself.” He sniffs and picks up one of Harry’s hands, playing with the rings on his fingers. “I bought out of my lease and moved into Lottie’s for a week or so, until I found the place I’m at right now.” He shrugs. “And he literally never spoke to me again. Didn’t call, didn’t text, didn’t even try and get in touch with Lottie again. I have no idea where he is now.”

“Jesus Christ,” Harry mutters. “That’s insane. That’s completely and utterly insane. What a fucking asshole.”

“I think the weirdest thing about it was how little I cared,” Louis says, voice wobbling. “Okay, that’s not true. It broke me, it fucking broke me to be left like that. But I didn’t miss him at once once he left. I think we’d been over for a while, to be honest, like we weren’t nearly as compatible as I wanted us to be.” He gestures between the two of them. “It’s nothing like what we have. And it fucking terrifies me to think that if it hadn’t been for a punch to the face, I might have married him or worse, just carried on in a miserable relationship that I never ended because I was so used to being with him.”

“Fucking hell,” Harry says quietly. He presses a long, lingering kiss into Louis’s forehead. “Can I… you can absolutely say no, but can I ask a couple of questions?”

“Sure,” Louis nods. He puts a hand on Harry’s cheek and thumbs over the creases of his cheek, trying to smooth down some of the anger there. “Hey, I need you to know that I’m okay now. I don’t have any fears that you’re going to behave the same or anything like that.”

“Good,” Harry says firmly, bringing a hand up to cover Louis’s. He gives it a squeeze and then brings it down so he can kiss his knuckles. “And thank you for telling me. I know that can’t have been at all easy. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Louis mumbles. This is what might actually make him cry. “Now hit me with these questions before you make me cry.”

Harry bites his lip for a second, and then asks, “Was it just a one off incident?”

Louis nods. “Yeah, he never lay a finger on me before that night. I dunno what changed; I dunno if he was always secretly an asshole like that or he was just absolutely the wrong side of too drunk or what.” He sighs. “It wasn’t a question for me, though. The second that happened I knew we were finished. I couldn’t… I just could never have gone on with the relationship knowing that he’d done that to me.”

Harry doesn’t respond but he does nod curtly. “Did you ever get the police involved?”

Louis shakes his head. “Nah. Lottie tried to get me to call them but I wouldn’t. Felt like a waste of their time. Plus, for the first week or so I really did think that his punishment of losing me would be enough, but then he never contacted me again or even tried to, so.” He shrugs. “Maybe not.”

“Losing you would be the worst thing in the world for me,” Harry says earnestly, so earnestly that Louis feels fresh tears prick the back of his eyes. “I mean it, Louis.”

“God,” Louis groans, throwing his head back and willing himself not to burst into tears, bury his face in Harry’s chest and never leave his arms. “You’re literally gonna make me cry, Harry.”

“You can cry if you need to,” Harry insists, and his grip on Louis tightens again. “You’ve seen me cry more times than you can probably count at this point.”

Louis snorts. “True, but still.” He blinks a few times and the tears die down. “I promised myself after some pretty extensive and pretty expensive therapy I’d never cry over that bastard again.”

“That was going to be my next question,” Harry says, brushing Louis’s fringe out of his face. “If you’d gone to see anyone about it.”

“Yes, I did,” Louis nods. “She was lovely and it really helped me. I don’t think I’d have recovered from it as well as I did if it hadn’t been for her.” 

“I’m glad you feel that way.” Harry’s voice sounds deeper than it normally does and Louis isn’t sure why, until he says, “I know it’s… I guess it’s easy for me to sit here and tell you that I won’t do that because as you said, you didn’t think he would ever have done that but…” He stares at Louis for a few seconds. “I would sooner fucking chop my balls off than ever put you through that again, I swear to god.”

“I know,” Louis says, voice cracking on the second word. “Harry, I know. I trust you more than I ever trusted him.”

“God,  _ baby.”  _ Harry pulls him in and peppers kisses across his face, his head, any part of him his lips can get to, and Louis sinks into the hold, his body going completely lax as he just lets himself be held. 

He doesn’t know what the hell he did to deserve Harry, but he’s never been more grateful for anything in his life. 

“I love you,” he murmurs, hand curling in the front of Harry’s jumper. “I love you like crazy and it’s…” He sniffs again, more tears threatening to bubble over again. “It felt weird, almost, that I felt ready to start again when I met you, you know?”

Harry looks confused but nods tentatively. Louis barrels on. 

“For a good while, even after all the therapy and the new flat and new start at work, it felt like I should still want him around, you know? We’d experienced so much life together and done so much together and he was the one who was there when my mum died and when my sister died and all these pivotal moments but, like…” He shrugs. “I’ve learned now, since being with you, that that doesn’t mean shit. He was there at my mum’s funeral, but my mum was never obsessed with him for me, you know?” He smiles a watery smile up at Harry. “I reckon she’d have loved you.”

Harry chokes out a sob. “Do you mean that?”

Louis laughs wetly. “Absolutely,” he says with a nod. “If I’d have taken you home to her, she’d have told me I’m punching well above my weight with you.”

“That’s not true,” Harry mumbles, but he’s smiling. “I’d have loved to meet her.”

“I have loved that,” Louis says, and that’s when the dam breaks. Talking about his mum is enough to get him going on his best days, but that coupled with talking about Henry coupled with the fact that he doesn’t think he could ever love anyone more than he loves Harry in that moment is just too much. “God. Fuck.  _ Harry.” _

“Baby,” Harry cries. He bundles Louis up into him even tighter and they both have a weep in each other’s arms until Louis is so exhausted he feels like he can barely keep his eyes open. 

Because he didn’t realise how much having a partner his mum would have approved of meant to him until now. He didn’t realise how much knowing she was only civil towards Henry had made him feel and how he hadn’t really let himself mourn her in the way he’d liked because not a year later he was mourning the end of a long-term relationship instead. 

He didn’t realise how much he still aches for her because he’s careful and doesn’t let himself think about her too often for this reason. But the truth is he’d trade in every penny of money he’s ever earned for the chance to spend even one more hour with her. 

He didn’t realise how much he needed someone to show him what it’s like to be loved so wholly, so incredibly, that you feel like you’re whole again. To go from feeling so incredibly empty to feeling so incredibly loved has been a wild change but a welcome one, and even though no love in this world will ever replace his mother’s, having a partner who loves him the way it’s clear Harry loves him is pretty special, and something he never saw for himself. 

He didn’t think he deserved it, and if he’s honest with himself he’s still not quite sure what he did to deserve Harry. But he’s sure as shit going to spend the rest of his days loving him. 

It’s Harry who ends up speaking first. His face is red and there are tear tracks evident across his flushed cheeks, his eyes puffy and his chest blotchy. He’s still the most beautiful thing Louis has ever seen. 

“I love you so much,” is the first thing he stammers out, cupping Louis’s cheeks in his huge hands. Louis nods at him, eyes fixed on his. “And I’m crying because I don’t think I realised how much of a shitty deck of cards you dealt before and that’s… that’s so fucking bullshit, Louis, because you’re the best person I’ve ever met.”

“Shut up,” Louis grumbles, his own cheeks heating up. 

“You are, baby,” Harry insists. “You have so much love to give the world and here you are, strong as hell and out the other side and you’re  _ wonderful _ because you did that. You did that on your own and you did it so well. And now you’re taking over the world and I couldn’t be prouder of you, honey. I really couldn’t.”

“I’m… I’m proud of me too,” Louis can’t help but whisper, scared that if he says it too loud it might stop it from being true. “I think I’ve done alright, all things considered.”

“You’ve done amazingly,” Harry insists, leaning forward and pressing several wet kisses onto Louis’s forehead. “You’re the strongest, bravest man I’ve ever met.”

“Thank you,” Louis practically whimpers, fresh tears threatening to spill over. He hiccups. “I’m sorry I made you cry too.” Another hiccup. “This isn’t how I envisioned this conversation going at all if I’m honest.”

Harry laughs wetly. “Same.” He moves himself a little so Louis’s back in his lap, his big arms around Louis’s middle and his chin hooked over his shoulder. “I’m just happy you didn’t tell me I was being pathetic for crying along with you, if I’m honest.”

Louis frowns. “It’s nice that you feel you can cry in front of me.” He wipes his nose a bit on the neck of his jumper. “I think we’ve both cried enough times in front of each other to know we don’t care.”

“I know, but, like…” Harry shifts a little and Louis hears him swallow nervously. “Kenny… Kendall, my ex-girlfriend, she used to tell me that it was stupid to cry when other people cry. People will think I’m pathetic and ridiculous and trying to make it all about me.” Louis feels him shrug his shoulders. “It’s something I’ve always done, I can’t seem to help it and at times like this I think it’s valid.”

“Harry,” Louis says, turning a bit and resting a hand on his cheek. “I don’t think you’re trying to make it about you at all, that’s dumb as fuck.” He snorts. “She sounds dumb as fuck anyway, but whatever. Her loss is my gain so I guess I should commend her for being so wrong.”

“I love you,” Harry says on a groan, then he leans himself back and manhandles Louis so he’s turned in his arms, so he’s lying on top of him while he lays himself down the length of the sofa. Louis brackets his arms either side of Harry’s head on the sofa and leans down to press their lips together several times in quick succession. He thinks he could quite happily stay here for a very long time. 

“I love you too,” he says, then pushes himself to the side and tucks himself between the sofa and his boyfriend, so he’s spooning Harry from behind, a leg thrown over Harry’s thighs to keep them anchored together. They probably look a right sight but Louis feels so safe, so happy and content, that he doesn’t really care. “Please live with me forever.”

He hears Harry chuckle as he draws Louis’s arm around him tighter. “I’m moving in with you now whether you like it or not.” He presses a kiss to the palm of Louis’s hand. “You’re never getting rid of me.”

“My big manly boyfriend,” Louis coos. “Here to hold me in my darkest hours. Here to protect me always.”

“Always,” Harry echoes, and he turns himself in Louis’s arms at that, tucking his face into Louis’s neck and taking a deep inhale. “Always will with you.”

They lie there together for a long time after that, Louis stroking through the baby hairs at the nape of Harry’s neck while Harry’s hand tucks under the back of his shirt and strokes up the bare skin of his back. They don’t say much else, but that’s okay. A lot has been said tonight and they both need time to process what they’ve shared and what they’ve been told. 

Louis hasn’t shared the full story of what happened with Henry with anyone new in over a year. Only Liam, Zayn, Lottie and his therapist know the whole truth and sharing it with Harry was liberating in a way he wasn’t expecting. 

He didn’t think he’d tell it to anyone else for a while, but if the fact that telling Harry made him feel lighter and freer than he has in ages doesn’t tell him anything, he doesn’t know what will. 

“I just remembered something,” Harry mumbles after a bit. Louis hums, signalling him to go on. “The first time we met, you came over to me and asked me if Harry was short for Henry.”

“Oh fuck, I did,” Louis grunts, then buries his face in Harry’s shoulder. “That was a dick move, I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t a dick move, I didn’t have a bloody clue what you were on about though.”

Louis laughs dryly. “When I saw you for the first time I thought you were fit as fuck. I even asked Liam if he’d met you or worked with you before.” He looks up at Harry. “And then you said your name was Harry and my head drew a line under you there and then. I couldn’t date another Henry so, on the off chance that your full name was actually Henry… I just needed to know if I could let myself fancy you or not.”

“For the record, I’m delighted you came over to me like that because it’s when I let myself start fancying you.” Harry tips Louis’s head up and gives him a kiss. “And that means I can now do this all the time.”

“I cannot believe how sappy you make me, asshole.” Louis pinches Harry’s nipple. “I’ve never been so sappy before, Christ. It’s like being a teenager again.”

Harry snorts. “I’m very sorry, my darling.” He dramatically drops his arms from around Louis, letting them flop to the floor. Louis squeaks. “I can stop if you like.”

“Don’t you dare.” Louis leans across over him, shuffling up the length of Harry’s body and practically shoving his crotch into Harry’s throat in his bid to grab his arms back. They end up wrestling which predictably turns into some snogging, and once they’re giggling too hard to keep kissing they peel themselves off the sofa and take themselves to bed, where Harry practically folds Louis in half and spends what feels like hours fucking into him, slow and deep, while they kiss and kiss until their lips feel bruised and Louis’s whole body is trembling with pleasure. 

When he comes, he comes  _ hard _ and he cries out Harry’s name, fisting his hands in Harry’s hair before going lax against the sweaty sheets. Harry kisses him on his slack mouth before he pulls out with a grunt, ripping off the condom and wanking off onto Louis’s stomach. Once he’s pumped himself dry he topples forward onto the pillow next to Louis, tucking his face close so he can leave long, wet kisses onto Louis’s shoulder. 

Louis rolls over, aware that the mess on his stomach is gross and will smear all over both the sheets and Harry but not finding it in him to care. He drops an arm over Harry’s middle and pulls him closer, kissing him long and slow. 

“Shit,” he mumbles against Harry’s lips. “I literally cannot get enough of you.”

Harry snorts against his lips, almost headbutting him as he barks out a laugh. “Now who’s the sappy one?”

“Both of us in equal measure.” Louis blinks at Harry, going for coy but he’s giggling too much to really achieve that. “But if you ever tell Zayn and Liam what we’re like I’ll cut your balls off.”

“That’s fair enough,” Harry says, nodding against the pillows. “Suppose that gives me all the more reason to tell you I can’t wait to wake up next to you every single morning forever then.”

Louis groans. “Urgh, stop it, you’ll get me hard again.”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “You have energy left after that?”

“To be fair, all I did was lie there,” Louis points out. 

“Lovely, lazy Louis,” Harry coos, then he wrinkles his nose. “And lovely as you might be, this mess in between us…” He gestures at the sticky sheets and the cum that’s quite literally sticking their bodies together. When he pulls back a bit it makes a noise so gross that they dissolve into giggles again. “Okay, yeah, we need to shower and change the sheets.”

Louis groans but peels himself out of bed regardless, wrinkling his nose at the soreness in his legs. “I’m so glad you don’t have work tomorrow. I think you broke my thighs.”

“Please send them my sincerest apologies,” Harry says, not sounding sorry at all. “Go and put the kettle on, will you? I fancy a cuppa after that orgasm.”

“Such a weirdo,” Louis grumbles, but shuffles obediently towards the kitchen anyway, squawking as Harry smacks his sore bum as he walks by. 

Two cups of tea, a lovely hot shower and some fresh bedding later, the pair are curled back up in each other’s arms. It’s the kind of safe and happy where Louis doesn’t want to sleep, he wants to bask in this feeling forever, but he’s also so exhausted from everything that’s happened in the last few hours that he can barely keep his eyes open. 

Harry brushes Louis’s fringe from his tired eyes and presses a kiss in between them. “Get some sleep,” he encourages, reaching behind him to click the lamp off. “I’ll still love you this much in the morning.”

Louis groans and slaps at Harry’s chest weakly. “That was foul. Too much. Too sappy. Bad Harry.”

“You love it,” Harry whispers, cuddling into Louis’s space. “Like you love me.”

“I do love you,” Louis murmurs, and the last thing he registers is Harry’s hand stroking down his arm before he falls into the best sleep he’s had in months. 

*

From there, their relationship seems to go from strength to strength. If Louis felt he was touchy-feely and bad at being apart from Harry before, it’s nothing compared to how he feels now. He just wants to be with Harry all the fucking time.

And this doesn’t go unnoticed by the other people in his life. 

“What’s crawled up your arse and died?”

Louis scowls and throws a balled up napkin at Niall. They’ve barely seen each other since the show ended because Niall had gone straight into Panto rehearsals for a nearby theatre where he’s playing Buttons in  _ Cinderella.  _

Across the country, every single theatre is gearing up for their annual Pantomime, an old British theatre tradition. Every Christmas, comic renditions of fairy tales and classic fables are brought to life on stage with over the top sets and crazy costumes, with bad puns, dad jokes and slosh scenes galore. People of all ages love a pantomime, and Louis is no exception, despite the fact that starring in them can be some of the most physically and mentally exhausting work for the actors, musicians and stage teams. 

Panto season is crazy in a different way to running a standard show and Louis is actually thrilled to be taking a break from it this year. He hasn’t had a free Christmas for four years, not since his mum died and he knew he had to stay at home for that one, and he’s quite excited to have free time that he hasn’t had in so long. 

More free time also means more time to miss Harry, apparently. 

“You’re moping,” Niall accuses, scowling. “He’s only at bloody work.”

“I’m not moping,” Louis mopes. “He’s also not at work. He stayed in to do some job applications.”

“Oooh,” Niall says, jutting out his bottom lip. “I didn’t know he was applying for other work.”

“Yeah,” Louis says. “He doesn’t want to do the panto with that tech team so he’s exploring other options.”

“Fair enough.” Niall takes a long, obnoxious slurp of his pint. Louis wrinkles his nose. “Hey, if he wants I can put him in touch with my mate Bressie. He’s Head of Stage for a theatre in Reading and they’re always looking for techies on the books.”

“Oh, really?” Louis mulls it over. On the one hand he’s promised not to mess, but this isn’t messing, right? Niall offered and it’s worth a go. 

Honestly, at this point he’s willing to try anything to make Harry feel happier about his work situation. 

“Yeah, if you wouldn’t mind,” he agrees with a smile. “That would be sound.”

“No bother,” Niall says with a shrug. “Anything to cheer Haz up, honestly. I feel like I don’t want him working in that team anymore and I’m not even his boyfriend, you know?”

Louis nods, hiding his proud little smile behind his pint glass. He gets a proper buzz off the fact that his friends are as protective of Harry as he is and it’s also nice to know that when he tells Harry time and time again that he doesn’t have to go back there and everyone would totally be behind him if he didn’t. Their decision to rehire Peter once the show ended is going to be one that winds him up for a long time yet. 

He leaves with this Bressie guy’s phone number saved in his phone after a lovely plate of pasta ( _ god _ , Louis won’t ever stop eating dairy-heavy meals when he’s not performing) and a couple more pints with Niall, tickets for him and Harry to come and watch his panto tucked into his coat pocket. He jumps on the Tube and heads towards Harry’s place, which is technically his place now as well before they move into their new place in a week’s time, making a quick stop into Tesco Express for some milk and some bread and some wine to drink with their dinner. 

When he gets home, Harry is sitting on the sofa swaddled in a blanket, wearing just his boxers and a pair of bed socks. When the door opens he calls Louis into the sitting room before he can even kick off his shoes, bounding over to him and reaching for his hand. He looks a mess and Louis immediately panics a bit. 

“Can we talk?”

“Yeah, course we can,” Louis says, reaching up to kiss Harry lightly. “Let me just put these in the fridge, yeah?”

He moves quickly and basically throws his shopping into the kitchen, then turns to find Harry in the doorway looking like he might cry. 

“Jesus, Harry baby, what’s happened?” 

“I think I wanna quit the theatre,” Harry rushes out. “I don’t wanna work there without you and Liam and Zayn and Ni being there, and I know it’s a different experience rather than necessarily a bad one, but it’s more than that. I don’t want to stay. I don’t love the job itself enough to want to stay.”

“Okay,” Louis says simply, then moves forward to wrap Harry into a tight hug. “Okay.” He feels Harry sag against him and they sway a little, nearly stumbling into the fridge. “It’s okay, darling, I mean it.”

“I just…” Harry sighs and grips Louis tighter, tucking his face into Louis’s neck. “I don’t know what I wanna do but I know it isn’t this. I know I don’t… oh, god, Lou, I’m really, like, I’m really upset.”

Louis nods - he’s suspected Harry to be on the verge of quitting for a while, so this isn’t a totally out of the blue decision. He didn’t think Harry was going to be this upset about it, though. “Why, darling?”

Harry sighs and blinks up at him. “Because… because we just signed a new lease together and now I’m talking about quitting my job and it’s like.” He sighs, clearly frustrated. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m trying to scrounge off you or not pull my weight.”

“I don’t think that,” Louis is quick to say. “I’m not going to think that because I also don’t want my boyfriend to work a job he doesn’t like at all. Paying your half of the rent is a small price to pay for the sake of your happiness, my love.”

“Yeah, but that’s not a realistic expectation when London rent prices are what they are…”

“Do you know how much I love you?” Louis interrupts, shaking him by the shoulders. Harry’s still looking at the floor and he mumbles something that doesn’t sound much like an answer, so Louis tries again. “Harry. Answer me. Do you know how much I fucking love you?”

“I know you love me, but…” Harry sighs, stepping from foot to foot. “But that’s still a lot to ask of a partner. You didn’t sign up for this when you signed that lease, you know?”

“Harry, I’m okay with this, I promise.” He runs his hands up and down Harry’s arms. “I’m incredibly lucky to be in the financial position I’m in, I know this. I’m making more than enough to cover the flat for the time being, plus I have a fuck load of cash in a savings account from my mum’s life insurance payout, and I promise you I’m absolutely fine in doing this.”

“But it’s…” Harry sags. “I knew you’d be like this, all supportive and shit. And it makes me feel worse because you’re just so fucking great to me.”

“Because I’m very much in love with you, dickhead.” Louis slides his arms down and wraps them loosely around Harry’s waist. “And need I remind you, we worked together for 8 months, babe. I saw how much you hated your job from the off.”

“I know,” Harry mumbles, curling his arms around Louis’s shoulders and pulling him in. “I know.”

“Baby,” Louis says, pressing a kiss onto Harry’s chest. “Baby, you don’t have to justify it to me, I promise.” He pulls back a little so they can look at each other properly. “Besides, it’s not like you won’t get another job soon, is it? It’s London, for fuck’s sake. The theatre industry is booming and it’s coming up to Christmas. I doubt anywhere is going to turn down a Sound Tech who’s worked on Mormon, are they?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Harry mutters, and Louis gets the feeling he wants to say something else but is stopping himself. He doesn’t press. “I… thank you, Lou. For being so supportive and great to me.” He cracks a small smile as Louis hums happily. “And for what it’s worth, I’m fucking so in love with you it makes my head spin sometimes. So yeah.”

“God, Harry,” Louis groans, tugging him down so they can kiss messily. “I can't believe how lucky I got with you, I really can’t.”

Harry beams at him. “Me neither. I literally…” He cuts himself off again, but this time he brings his hands up to cup Louis’s face, drawing him in for a long kiss. 

They don’t talk about it after that - Harry drags him out to get some food at this little pizza place around the corner that Louis loves so much, and they spend the rest of the evening talking about the move. 

For the rest of the night, and for the rest of the week for that matter, Harry’s still a little off. Louis doesn’t want to push him but it turns out he doesn’t even need to. He comes back from the supermarket one day to find Harry sat at the table, hair fisted in his hands as he stares at his laptop with a wild look on his face.

“Baby?”

“Louis, I’m stressed,” Harry croaks, doesn’t even bother saying hello. In fact, he looks seconds away from having a breakdown.

Louis abandons the shopping bags in favour of pulling up a chair next to Harry and taking his hand in his. It’s shaking a bit, so he kisses over his knuckles. “What’s wrong, babe?”

Harry’s screen shows he’s been looking at ArtsJobs, a popular platform used throughout the country for creatives and technicians to find work. He turns to Louis and shakes his head. “Just, like, having a stress looking at stuff on here and thinking about things and then you weren’t home…”

“Harry,” Louis cuts in gently. “Baby, whatever’s going on in your pretty little head, we can sort it, yeah?” Harry licks his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry breathes, and lets Louis just hold his hands while he calms down a bit. Harry’s been known to do this - overthink while Louis isn’t in so Louis comes home to a stressed-out boyfriend that needs gentle touches and careful words and lots of reassurance. If he’s honest, Louis is surprised it’s not happened sooner, because all week Harry’s been a bit off, wound-up and concerned about something he’s not voiced out loud, and now it’s about to blow.

So when he does start speaking and it’s at a million miles an hour, Louis braces himself.

“I know you’re off working at the moment and that’s all cool because you’re self-employed and you’re gonna be fucking Joseph come March, but then I realised something.” Harry stares down at his hands, wringing them in his lap. Louis reaches forward and gently coaxes them apart, sliding both of his into both of Harry’s. 

“Tell me, love.”

“Well,” Harry says, sounding a little desperate, “Your rehearsals kick off in February and then once you start in your actual role, your schedule will be like it was last year.”

Louis nods and shrugs. “Yeah, kind of. This is a shorter run though.”

“Yeah, that’s true but like…” Harry sighs, frustrated. “If I’m not in the same industry as you, if my schedule is like 9-5 or whatever, then I’ll barely get to see you. And I’m not saying that should dictate what I do for a living but it does. You’re more of a priority than a work schedule for me.” He blinks at Louis. “I don’t think we realised how lucky we had it when we were both working together on  _ Mormon.” _

Louis hums in understanding and agreement - he’s loathed to admit it, but Harry does have something of a point. 

He pulls Harry into his arms and holds him. “Is this why you’ve been off with me all week?”

Harry groans, nodding against Louis’s jumper. “When I realised it, I got really upset thinking about it,” he mumbles. “And I never, ever want you to think that I’m trying to make you pick between me or your job because that’s not even a question or really what this predicament is about.”

“But it’s a factor.” Louis plays with the baby hairs at the bottom of Harry’s neck. “And this job is very time-consuming and demanding and I don’t get very many days off.” 

“Exactly,” Harry agrees. “And I am so grateful that we’ve had it so lucky so far because we’ve had a chance to build up a lovely stable relationship where we’re moving into together and everything, I just…” He sighs again, then pulls back so he can kiss Louis on the lips. “I just don’t want to barely see you because I love you and I’d hate for our work, the thing that brought us together, to be the thing that pushes us apart.”

“I don’t think it’ll push us apart,” Louis says gently. “I think you’re brilliant and any job role would be lucky to have you.” That makes Harry smile. “I also think it’s important to note that you’ve been bloody miserable at work for a bit, baby. Even when I was there, you were clearly unhappy in the role itself, and the last thing I want is for you to get another sound tech role to fit around my schedule if you didn’t like the work.”

Harry laughs darkly. “Yeah, that’s something I thought too.” He shrugs and moves away from Louis, disappearing for a few seconds before he reappears with his laptop. “I think I want to do, like, more studio work?”

“Recording studio work?” Louis asks. Harry nods. “Damn, sweetheart. I think that would suit you.”

“Yeah?” Harry shrugs meekly. “I think I’d be better at that, if I’m honest. Maybe for the studio soundtracks of West End shows or something.”

“You’d be great at that,” Louis says earnestly. “You have such a great ear for music. You love music. I reckon you’d be incredible.”

“But it’s not realistic right now,” Harry says sadly, and his posture goes back to how it was a couple of minutes ago, slouched and sad. “That’s such a specific job and I doubt there’s going to be many going right now. So I’ll need to stick at this work in the meantime.”

Louis frowns. “But we just said you didn’t need to.”

Harry scoffs. “I’m absolutely not going to sponge off you this early in our relationship, I’m not doing that. That’s not fair or right. But I don’t know what else to do right now other than go back.”

“It’s not sponging, I’m literally offering,” Louis argues, but Harry shakes his head wildly.

“This isn’t up for debate,” he says a little haughtily. “Even if it means working a panto, which I didn’t want to do, it might be my only option if I still want to work.”

“Can I be realistic with you?” Louis asks carefully. Harry looks hesitant but he nods. “I don’t need to know what the inside of your bank account looks like, nor do I ever want you to feel pressured by me and my doings. I’m super aware I’m in a very lucky position for a theatre actor,” he says. “But we’ve got the flat all sorted and you’re going to be very hard pressed to find a job in theatre right now that isn’t panto based.” 

“Well, yes,” Harry says mournfully. “Steve keeps pressing me to get the contract signed to keep me on cos it’s a massive change in hours and responsibilities for me. So my pay varies for it.”

“By a lot?” Louis asks, tilting his head to one side. Harry shrugs. “It’s not a worthwhile pay change even if the job is different?”

Harry shrugs again. “Not for the fact that I’ll have to work until 5pm on Christmas Eve - your bloody birthday of all days - to then not see you, get the train up to my mum’s, spend Christmas Day exhausted and then get back to the theatre for half 9 on Boxing Day.”

“Jesus,” Louis mutters, but he isn’t all that surprised. He’s worked enough pantomimes and given up enough birthdays to know the crazy hours they expect you to work. “And what would your pay change?”

“Like, two-fifty a month, five hundred overall?”

“Fuck that,” Louis says loudly, eyes going wide. “Is that it?”

Harry scowls. “That’s a lot, Louis.”

“Yeah, and a hundred quid of that will be your last minute train ticket home on Christmas Eve,” he says hotly. Harry frowns. “I’m serious, babe, and this isn’t me trying to turn you into a kept man or anything. I can cover rent for the first three months, don’t even worry about it, and in that time we’ll both be off and we can enjoy Christmas, maybe go on a holiday, and we can work together to find you a job you’ll absolutely love in the new year, yeah?”

“Louis,” Harry says weakly. “I… like, don’t get me wrong because it sounds incredible in principle but it’s not… I  _ can’t… _ ”

“Why, baby?” Louis doesn’t want to beg him or pressure him, but in his mind it’s so  _ simple.  _ He’s been in this position before where he's financially reliant on someone else to make rent and it sucks, but there’s also the matter of Harry’s pride and he absolutely doesn’t want to compromise that. That’s not fair on either of them because while Louis knows he won’t resent Harry for having to pay his half of the rent, he doesn’t want it to come across as a hand-out and have Harry resent him back.

_ “Why do you always act like you’re above me, or better than me, or doing me favours?”  _ rings through his mind suddenly, the words Harry had snapped at him after the microphone debacle, and that was before they were even _ together.  _ God, if Harry ever felt that way now he’d never forgive himself. 

“Baby?” he says again, tentative.

Harry bursts into tears.

“ _ Baby.”  _ Louis gathers him in his arms and moves them over to the sofa, where he gently moves them down and rocks Harry against his chest, kissing his head and his hair and any part of him he can gently for a few minutes. “Sweet boy,  _ Harry.  _ What on earth…?”

“Peter’s coming back,” Harry blurts, wiping frantically at his eyes with the backs of his hands. “For the pantomime at our theatre.”

Louis’s mouth hits the floor. “What?”

“Steve told me last week and I’ve been trying to decide what to do since then,” Harry rushes out. “Like, you know I’ve been thinking about quitting for a while anyway but this makes me feel…”

“Hold on, hold on.” Louis strokes Harry’s hair and frowns. “Steve’s bringing Peter back?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, he got rehired by the panto company as their Technician on the Books.”

“Fuck,” Louis grunts. He can’t fucking believe this. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Harry looks up at him, his green eyes wide and shiny with unshed tears. “Because… because I thought you’d be mad.”

“I am mad,” Louis says hotly. “I’m fucking furious. I never want you working with that massive fucking prick ever again.”

Harry whimpers a little, sniffing as he tries to regain his composure. “So I really don’t want to go back,” he whispers, shaking his head. “But I feel like I’ve been panicking about it so much that I’ve left it too late to find anywhere else. Like, some theatres have already kicked off their pantomimes so loads of places won’t even be looking to hire at this point.”

“In that case, I will literally beg you to quit before you sign this new contract for Steve,” Louis tells him. He cups Harry’s face in his hands, hoping how serious he is comes across without looking frantic. “Your mental health needs to come before money, Harry, and I can’t as a good boyfriend let you risk losing that all over again, I can’t.” His voice cracks on the last word. “I just love you too fucking much for that.”

“I love you too,” Harry says, curling his hands around Louis’s wrists. “But if I quit, does that make me a coward?”

“Couldn’t give a shit,” Louis tells him firmly. “If anything, it makes you stronger because you didn’t put yourself back in the position you didn’t want to, if that makes sense.”

Harry sniffs. “I think… I think the hardest bit is me trying to come to terms with the fact that your offer is actually…” He sniffs again, but this time it’s almost a laugh, which makes Louis smile. “Your offer is amazing and super generous, and I’d still be able to contribute somewhat. I get a season bonus for  _ The Book of Mormon  _ in my next paycheck.”

Louis’s heart flutters. “So… you’ll do it? You won’t go back there?”

Harry bites his lip. “Only if you’re  _ sure  _ about covering rent, Louis, because I…”

Louis shuts him up with a hard press of lips, a searing kiss that leaves them both a bit speechless. “I’m sure,” he croaks, “I’m so sure…” He pulls Harry in and starts to pepper him with kisses, whatever part of him he can reach. “God, I love you so much.”

“But I’m paying you back,” Harry cuts in fiercely. He places a firm hand on Louis’s chest and looks him in the eye with such intensity that it almost makes Louis squirm. “This is only temporary and only for three months and only because I’m tired and stressed and deserve a fucking break with my fucking boyfriend.”

“Yeah, fine,” Louis rushes out before they kiss again and again and again. “I’ll draw up a fucking legal agreement if it means you don’t work with that prick ever again, I swear to you.”

Harry chuckles wetly, tucking his face into the curve of Louis’s neck and taking a long, deep sigh. Louis wraps him in his arms and sways him gently, kissing his forehead. He can feel the sense of relief coming off Harry in waves, his body already feeling less tense. 

“You’re too good to me,” Harry mumbles eventually, shaking his head in disbelief as he pulls back and cups Louis’s face in his big hands. “But thank you. I don’t… I still feel weird about this, a little bit, but honestly the idea of being off with you for the whole winter is so appealing, especially with the move.”

“It’s perfect timing,” Louis assures him, sliding his hands under Harry’s jumper, resting them on the warm skin of his hips. “And it’ll be the best few weeks because we’ll literally not have anything else to do other than christen every single surface in the new place.”

“Such a little nympho,” Harry grins, but he kisses Louis deeply, so it seems he’s pretty open to the idea too. 

Harry sends his week’s notice in via email the next day. Louis wraps his arms around his shoulders from behind and stays there while he sends it, kissing the crown of Harry’s head as he presses send with a shaky hand. 

“You did it,” he breathes out proudly. “I’m so proud of you, sunshine.”

“That was terrifying,” Harry admits with a groan. He tilts his head back so he can stare up at Louis, who leans down and gives up an upside down kiss. “But I feel… I feel good, Lou.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, like, the weight that feels like it has lifted is…” Harry doesn’t finish his sentence, but he stands up and pulls Louis in for a proper hug. “I don’t have to see him ever again. And I get Christmas off.” He shakes his head in wonder. “Remind me why I ever thought that was a bad idea?”

Louis hums and nuzzles into his neck. “Because you’re a proud and stubborn little princess, that’s why.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. “I am.” He pulls back and grins. “But the idea of letting myself have a bit of a break for the first time since uni is the nicest feeling in the world. Like I’ve never felt relief like this, I don’t think.”

Louis kisses him happily. “How many shifts do you have left then?”

“Four,” Harry says, pecking Louis’s lips again before he steps back and breaks the hug, closing his laptop as he moves into the kitchen. “And I miss Peter entirely, thank fuck. He doesn’t start at the theatre itself until the week after next because he’s working in Sheffield with the musicians at the moment.” 

“That’s music to my ears, that is,” Louis says merrily. He can’t even begin to put into words how happy he is that Harry doesn’t have to see that bastard ever again, not even for one shift. “

They spend the first week or so of their time off together not doing a lot - they lie in and stay up late and go out for dinners at their favourite restaurants because they’ve not had evenings free for so long so now they can. They spend days in the flat packing and talking, thinking about what bits they’ll want to sell and buy and stock up on for their new place, discussing everything from curtains to cookware to ice cube trays in great detail because  _ they’re moving in together in a week.  _

Just the thought of it makes Louis giddy. 

On Saturday, the pair get the Tube into Covent Garden to meet Gemma for lunch. Louis still hasn’t met her yet and he’s a little bit terrified, he can’t lie. It isn’t for lack of wanting to meet her - his schedule is so busy when he’s doing a show he’s barely seen his own sister - but this is the first of Harry’s family he’ll be meeting and that’s terrifying. 

He’s the eldest sibling himself and understands the wrath of the big brother/sister better than anyone, but something about Gemma scares him a bit. Maybe it’s because from the way Harry’s talked about her she’s fiercely protective and won’t think anyone is good enough for her younger brother, no matter how hard he tries. 

He kind of agrees. 

Turns out he doesn’t have anything to worry about. Gemma is almost a carbon copy of her brother and even though he’s seen pictures of her it’s almost shocking seeing her in real life, seeing just how much she looks and sounds like his boyfriend. 

“This is Gemma,” Harry says, eyes flitting anxiously between his sister and his boyfriend as they meet just inside the restaurant. “Gemma, this is my Louis.”

Louis holds out his hand for a shake, but instead of getting one Gemma steps forward, slaps Harry on the chest, then pulls Louis into a hug. 

“Finally,” she mumbles, squeezing her arms around Louis’s middle. Louis hugs her back, catching Harry’s eye over her shoulder and mirroring his soft, fond grin. “This is so overdue.”

“Tell me about it,” Louis agrees. “Harry literally talks about you all the time.”

“All good things, I hope,” she titters with just an air of sarcasm, just as the waiter appears and leads them to their table. They settle in, ordering some bread for the table and a round of drinks. 

“God, I can’t believe it’s taken us this long to finally do this,” Gemma says again, fixing her brother with a disapproving look. “Six months, a joint lease, and not even an invitation over for dinner.”

“I offered you a free ticket to the show,” Harry mumbles petulantly. Louis snorts and Gemma shakes her head. 

“A show I couldn’t go to,” she chuckles. She turns to Louis. “I really wanted to go but I couldn’t work it out with my teaching schedule, plus I have to travel up to Manchester some days of the week for work. Sorry, Louis, I would have come to see it if I could‘ve.”

“That’s fair enough,” Louis says with a loose shrug. He knows this already, of course, because Harry was nothing but apologetic about the fact that neither his mum or sister could make it to the show. “I’m sorry we’ve not been able to squeeze in meeting you beforehand.”

“And so you should,” Gemma says sternly, pointing a finger dramatically between the two of them. “You better not have met Louis’s mum yet, Haz, or I’ll be very upset.”

Harry’s face drops and Louis bites his lip, unsure of whether to laugh or panic. “ _ Gemma, _ ” Harry hisses. “No, I haven’t met Louis’s mum.”

Gemma frowns. “That doesn’t sound very convincing to me, baby brother.” She rolls her eyes. “Is he lying to me, Louis? Has he met your mother yet?”

“Um,” Louis says dumbly. “My mother’s dead.”

The way Gemma’s face falls and her cheeks go pink in the exact same way her brother’s does is enough to make Louis bark an awkward laugh, which he tries (and fails) to stifle with his hand.

“I am so sorry,” Gemma says hoarsely, looking frantic. “I shouldn’t have assumed… it’s… I’m  _ so _ sorry.”

Louis shrugs and shakes his head. “Don’t apologise, honestly, it’s a simple enough question to ask.” Harry squeezes his thigh under the table. “Harry did the same thing on our first date.”

Gemma looks scandalised and Harry pouts. Louis can’t help but grin, even though he has just thrown his boyfriend under the bus a little bit. “Harry!” Gemma crows, “How could you?”

“The same way you just did now!” Harry bickers back, then glares at Louis. “Jesus Christ, you’re mean.”

“Loosened the tension though, didn’t it?” Louis kisses Harry’s cheek as an apology anyway. “Don’t worry baby, I still love you.”

“Gross,” Gemma says with a snort, but her soft smile says she’s thinking otherwise. She squeezes Louis’s hand over the table. “I am sorry though.”

Things get a lot less tense after that. It’s a lovely few hours they spend with Gemma, enjoying fruity cocktails and delicious food and the conversation flows effortlessly the entire time. By the end of it Louis feels like he’s known her for years, and he’s even got her number programmed in his phone so she can send him pictures of baby Harry when she gets home, which Harry looks torn between being annoyed about and thrilled about.

“He’s a keeper,” Gemma stage-whispers to Harry when they hug goodbye, winking at Louis over his shoulder. Louis grins. “Keep him.”

“Oh, I’m gonna,” Harry says, squeezing Gemma tightly before he pulls Louis in to join their hug. 

“He doesn’t have a choice, not when I’ve been promised baby photos,” Louis grins, pinching his cheek happily. He kisses her on both cheeks before they break the hug, before he leans back in to her to stage-whisper, “I want the most embarrassing ones first please, cute ones later on.”

Gemma laughs and winks at him. Louis has the feeling this is going to be the start of a very lovely relationship.

And a few days later, Harry finally gets the chance to meet Lottie. Similar to how they met Gemma, they join her in a cozy little pub in Brixton for a Sunday dinner a few days later.

The hug that Louis pulls Lottie into is perhaps a little dramatic for a public setting but  _ fuck,  _ he’s missed his sister so much. This is the longest they’ve gone without seeing each other since they lost their mum and it feels a bit like he’s coming home when he hugs her. She’s wearing the same perfume she always does, with that same underlying scent of coconut from her tan, and Louis wraps her up tight like she’s just returned from war.

Luckily she seems to share the sentiment, her hands curling in the back of his coat as she squeals and leaves wet kisses on his cheeks. “God, I’ve missed you, dickhead.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Louis chokes out, pressing his face into her shoulder. “God, shit. Sorry I’ve been such a shit brother.”

Lottie pulls back and slaps him lightly on the chest. “Yeah, you have, and you haven’t even introduced me to this one.”

“Hello,” Harry says from behind Louis, leaning to the side and offering her a small, awkward wave. “I’m Harry.”

“I know,” Lottie says, tutting before she pulls him in for a hug. “Come here. If you’re going to keep my brother hostage for six months, the least you can do is give me a hug hello.”

Harry goes into the embrace easily and Lottie whispers something in his ear that Louis can’t hear but makes them both giggle, so it makes him smile regardless. Seeing his sister and his boyfriend bond is something that is going to make his heart very happy and he can already feel any lingering nerves from not having seen Lottie for months leave now he knows she’s not actually too annoyed at him.

They’re led over to their table not long after that and they settle in comfortably, peeling off their scarves and gloves and coats because winter has very much hit London this week. There’s a fireplace burning behind them and friendly chatter from all the other tables around them, the mood light and happy.

“I’ll get the first round in,” Harry offers, fumbling to get his wallet out his back pocket. “What can I get you both? Pint for you, love?”

“Yes please,” Louis says. He gives Harry’s arm a squeeze. “Are you going to have a gin and tonic?”

“Probably,” Harry hums. “Lottie, do you want to join me in a gin and tonic?”

“I’d love a gin and tonic,” Lottie says with a grin. “Cheers, Harry.”

Harry gives Louis a quick peck on the lips before he stands up and disappears to the bar. Louis smiles after him as he goes because he knows what Harry’s doing - he’s giving Louis some alone time with his sister, which is something he’s been moaning about not having had for months. 

Instead of any niceties though, Louis gets a slap on the shoulder. 

“ _ Ow,  _ what the fuck?”

“I cannot believe you,” Lottie hisses. “Where the fuck did you find him?”

Louis blinks at her. She knows where they met. “Um, at work?”

“No, like…” She flaps her hand up and down, gesturing to where Harry’s standing at the bar and waiting to be served. “He’s fucking gorgeous, my  _ god.” _

“Oh, I know,” Louis says dreamily. Harry’s wearing high-waisted plaid pants and a dark blue shirt, hair neatly groomed and silver polish on his nails. He’s a vision tonight, having put in some extra effort for Lottie’s benefit. Not that he doesn’t look perfect every night in Louis’s humble opinion. “He’s so fucking fit it catches me off guard sometimes.”

“Jesus Christ,” Lottie says with a shake of her head. “He’s so fit. You are punching there, Lou, no offence.”

Louis snorts. He’s missed Lottie so much. “None taken, darling, I am well aware he’s too pretty for me.”

“Not even that, he’s literally like your type in human form,” she continues disbelievingly. “If God was like, ‘hey Louis, describe your perfect boyfriend,’ and you were like, ‘sure God, he’s tall and lean but kind of muscley and he dresses really well and has a lame but funny sense of humour and also a massive dick…’” Louis squeaks and pokes her, but she still carries on. “Literally I’m pretty sure you’d get him.”

“Probably, yeah,” Louis nods. “I literally don’t understand how he’s so perfect and also fancies me back but yeah, that’s my Harry.”

“I already really like him,” Lottie grins, and she gives Louis a reassuring squeeze on the shoulders. “And I reckon Mum would probably love him.”

Louis smiles softly. He’s glad Lottie thinks so too. “She would. If she were here she’d be pretending to flirt with him right now while Fizzy would be sat across the table, pretending to be not be interested at all, when really she’d be looking him up on Instagram.”

“You’re right, they would,” Lottie laughs, happy and fond, before she curls into Louis’s side a bit and Louis throws an arm around her, kissing her forehead. It’s bittersweet, feeling this happy but missing two of the most important people. “Mum would have mentioned twice already how handsome he’d be in a suit for your wedding.”

“And she’d be telling me off for keeping him all to myself,” Louis reminisces, remembering the hilarious dinner where their mum had met Lottie’s boyfriend at the time, a handsome young lad called Tommy, that Jay had spent their whole dinner out fawning over. She’d fixed his fringe about five times before Lottie had told her to stop. 

Louis would have done anything for the chance for her and Harry to meet. 

It’s not long before Harry returns with their drinks and they settle into some easy chatter, talking about work and Lottie’s business and what they’ve got lined up. 

“I told my sister that you’re the chief exec of your brand and she flapped at me for five minutes for keeping that information withheld,” Harry chuckles. “Apparently you make some bloody great products.”

“I like to think so,” Lottie laughs happily. “That’s so cool that she already uses my stuff.”

“She’s pale, like, milk bottle pale and now she’s discovered your stuff she's always lovely and glowy,” Harry says. “The first time she used it was before our cousin’s wedding and, like, four people came over and asked her if she was pregnant because she looked so healthy and fresh. She was kind of mad but her boyfriend thought it was hysterical and so did Mum and I.”

“That’s brilliant,” Louis chuckles as Lottie beams. 

“Well, I’ve got some Christmas sets that are about to launch if she wants me to send her some stuff.”

Harry’s mouth drops open. “You can do that?”

“Babe, I’m the boss, I can do whatever I’d like,” she giggles. “Text me her address and I’ll post them to her or something.”

Harry’s thank-yous are cut off by the waitress coming to take their food order and gradually the talk turns to Christmas.

“What day do you want to drive up?” Louis asks Lottie. Every year, they spend Christmas at their dad’s house with their younger sisters, Daisy and Phoebe, as well as their dad’s new wife and kids. Because Louis has his birthday on Christmas Eve, he usually goes to the pub with his friends in the evening, but he isn’t sure what the plan will be this year. He and Harry haven’t really talked about it even though Harry’s mentioned being around on his birthday a couple of times.

“The 23rd?” Lottie asks. “What are you doing for Christmas this year, Harry? Are you coming to ours at all?”

Harry smiles shyly. “I thought I might? If that’s okay with you, Lou, of course?” 

“Really?” Louis turns to him and frowns, not angry but surprised. “Don’t you want to spend Christmas with your mum?”

“Yes,” Harry answers, then shrugs. “But I want to spend your birthday with you too and to be honest, I don’t much fancy driving the two hours to Cheshire on Christmas morning so I figured - maybe, if you want to, of course - you coming to my family home on Boxing Day?”

“Oh my god, yes,” Louis says, giving Harry’s knee a squeeze under the table. If he’s honest, he’d been thinking about that as the best case scenario, but he’s secretly glad that Harry was the one to suggest it so he didn’t come across as too keen. “That sounds perfect.”

“You’re cute,” Lottie coos. “Look at you and your serious relationship, Lou. It’s  _ cute.” _

“Shut the fuck up.” Louis hates how  _ that  _ of all things makes him blush. “Oh, shit, hang on. If we go to your Mum’s, how’s Lottie going to get home?”

“We can drive back?” Harry offers, but Lottie shakes her head. 

“Nah, fuck that. You two have a lovely time at your Mum’s, Harry. I’ll get the train home.”

“No, we’ll drive back,” Harry insists. “We’d only be staying until the 28th anyway, I think, because I want to be back in London for New Year’s.”

Louis raises his eyebrows. “Oh, have you got plans?”

Harry rolls his eyes and drops an arm around the back of Louis’s chair. “Not yet, but don’t worry, I’m sure any plans will include you, my sunshine.”

Louis bats him away and excuses himself to pop to the loo before the food arrives. When he gets back, Harry and Lottie are deep into a conversation about how great  _ Pretty Little Liars  _ is and he settles back against his chair, sits between his two favourite people, and lets them bond and gossip.

The food is warm and delicious when it arrives. It’s been bloody ages since Louis has had a proper roast dinner and he scoffs it down happily before further devouring a sticky toffee pudding for dessert.

“Not as good as Mum’s,” Lottie comments as she tucks into her own. She turns to Harry. “Our mum was a shit cook, bless her, but her puddings were amazing and her sticky toffee pudding was honestly next level.”

“It was,” Louis agrees. “Couldn’t cook a roast dinner to save her life but for any special occasion we’d go out and have a meal at a restaurant, but we’d always come home for dessert because she’d have made enough to feed an army.”

Harry chuckles politely. “Your mum sounds adorable. I swear every story I hear about her, she sounds more adorable.”

“I said to Louis earlier, she’d have been obsessed with you, mate.  _ Obsessed.” _

Harry blinks at her, confused. “Obsessed?”

“Yeah, like, you’re tall and polite and handsome as hell,” Lottie says, unabashed. “She’d literally have loved you from the get-go, I swear. We’re what? An hour and a half into this meal? So by this point she’d have already called you the son she never had - even though she has two bloody sons - and asked Louis when he’s going to propose?”

Harry snorts. “Seriously?”

Louis nods somberly. “Seriously. And the second time you’d have met her, the conversation would be all about grandbabies.”

“Grandbabies?” Harry hiccups. “But we’ve only been together half a year.”

“Wouldn’t matter,” both Louis and Lottie say at the same time in the same tone, which makes them all laugh. Louis curls an arm around Harry’s and pecks him on the shoulder. “Seriously babe, she was a force to be reckoned with. She’d have shown you no mercy at all regarding your intentions for me.”

“My intentions are very pure,” Harry says very seriously. “No sex before marriage, no grandbabies until we have a house of our own, that kind of thing.”

Lottie narrows her eyes. “Hang on,” she frowns. “You two… are… waiting for marriage?”

Louis chokes on a laugh - they are definitely  _ not  _ waiting for marriage. Just this morning Harry had flipped Louis onto his belly and fucked him slowly, barely any prep needed because he was still pretty open from last night, where Louis had sat on Harry’s cock for what felt like hours. He turns to Harry but Harry is already bright red, fishmouthing awkwardly. 

Louis slaps him lightly. “Harry, for Christ’s sake. She’s clearly taking the piss.”

“Jesus Harry, don’t shit yourself,” Lottie cackles. “I’m fully joking. Louis has a love bite on his neck, for crying out loud.”

Louis moves his hand to his neck to cover it, then he frowns. “Hang on.”

Lottie cackles even harder. “The pair of you are losers. Lou’s modesty went out the window years ago and also I’m your sister. I literally don’t care if you’re shagging, I’m teasing.” She drains her wine glass. “Say something, Harry, bloody hell.”

“Definitely no grandbabies until after marriage,” Harry says hoarsely. “Just sex for now.” His eyes go wide. “Jesus. Can we stop talking about us having sex?”

Louis kisses his warm cheek and slides his hand down so he can tangle their fingers together. “Shut up, weirdo.” He turns back to Lottie. “Right. I meant to ask, and this isn’t just me changing the bloody subject, I promise, what are you getting Grandad for his 90th?”

The rest of the meal passes blissfully slowly and Louis relishes the time he gets to spend with Lottie, catching up with her properly rather than on stolen FaceTime calls or hurried phone conversations in between rehearsals or meetings. It makes him realise how much time he’s spent with Harry lately, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing but he is man enough to admit that perhaps he’s been neglecting others now he’s in a new relationship, and now they’re both a lot more settled he vows to change that. 

He nips to the loo again just before they leave and when he comes back and meets the pair by the front entrance they’re already hugging. He can’t see Harry’s face but he can see Lottie’s, and she’s got a real shit-eating grin on her face. 

“Hugging without me, are ya?” he cries, shouldering himself into the embrace. “Come here, you pair of dicks.”

Lottie leans up and presses loads of lip glossy kisses to his chin and beard. “Don’t you ever leave it this long without coming to see me again.”

“Promise,” Louis turns so he can hug her properly, smacking an equally obnoxious kiss onto her cheek. “Cross my heart.”

“Sooner than you think, I hope,” she giggles, then pulls back and winks. “Urgh, my Uber is here. I love you, dickhead.”

“Love you more, asshole,” he coos at her. “What, hang on. What do you mean, sooner than you think?”

Lottie grins up at them both and gives them each one final quick hug before she clambers into her taxi. “See you at your housewarming party! Bye Harry, lovely to meet you!”

“We’re having a housewarming party?” Louis asks, glancing up at Harry as Lottie’s taxi turns the former and drives out of sight. Harry grins. 

“We are now.”

*

Moving in with Harry with everything and nothing like Louis thought it would be. 

They’ve essentially been living together for a few months now, both extremely codependent and used to spending all their waking hours together, but living in  _ their  _ flat with  _ their  _ stuff that they’ve bought  _ together  _ is a bit surreal. 

Harry took the move very seriously from the day they decided to move in together, spending long hours hunched over his laptop on various homeware websites, making notes on a spreadsheet that would put Louis’s accountant to shame. Tiny pots of paint and swatches of couch fabric turn up at his door on an almost daily basis and their days off are spent trawling vintage and charity shops across the city. 

They got their keys on a Wednesday. Harry was finally free of work by then and they paid an exorbitant fee to hire a van to move their furniture from one flat to the other, but Louis only ended up keeping a few pieces anyway. Most of his things were cheap IKEA bits he never ended up replacing after moving out of his and Henry’s shared place, so the idea of co-owning furniture that looks like it’s made from real wood had been a very exciting prospect.

All of it’s a very exciting prospect, really. Even from day one where they slept on Harry’s old mattress on the living room floor and ate Thai food out of the takeaway container it felt much more like home than his little place ever did. He feels overwhelmed in the best way thinking about how this flat could be theirs for a very long time.

And from day one Harry has been acting like the perfect househusband, from sorting out their laundry to making sure their fridge is filled with snacks, fruit and veg so they don’t end up just living on Pot Noodles for the next couple of days (without him, Louis wouldn’t have even entertained the idea of cooking a meal until they’re entirely unpacked). Considering Harry is younger than him, he’s definitely the more domestic of the pair by a long shot.

Just last week they bickered for a good five minutes in Sainsbury’s about what shape of pasta to get and they’d walked out with four different kinds, along with some fancy storage jars to put them in. 

“Because if I have to open a cupboard once more and see ripped packets of pasta with pieces from god know when just littered around it, I’m gonna flip,” Harry had said very seriously. 

Louis had never even considered storing his pasta in anything other than the packet it came in, but now they have jars. Jars that are both his and Harry’s that they keep their communal pasta in. All four shapes of it.

Harry’s mum had also very generously transferred him over a hefty sum of money for them to treat themselves to some new furniture, so they’d purchased a beautiful antique dining table and six mismatched chairs that Louis kind of hates but Harry’s absolutely obsessed with, so he doesn’t comment. It’s worth it to be able to eat dinner at a table now rather than balancing his plate awkwardly on his lap while they watch something random on the telly. 

They also invest in a new mattress and bed frame that’s far too expensive and Louis can’t wait for it. Bed shopping had been an interesting experience, to say the least, because Harry had insisted on trying so many different mattresses at this fancy shop he’d never heard of where the sales assistant had actually asked them how active they were in bed before she was able to recommend them some appropriate mattresses. They even have cameras above the bed so you can see what you’ll look like while you’re in it. 

Louis certainly doesn’t need anyone else seeing Harry in a bed curled around him - “to see what it’s like when we spoon, Lou” - thank you very much. 

They come out of the store a grand lighter but a bed heavier, which Louis might have panicked about previously, but when he’s got Harry whispering in his ear all the things he plans to do to Louis in that bed the whole home, it’s difficult for him to not think of it as a very sensible spend.

Overall the whole move has been expensive and busy and a lot to take in, but the way that Harry’s putting so much due care and attention into this makes him a lot less stressed. He can’t imagine having had to do this with Harry working full-time, because without him pretty much taking the wheel Louis fears nothing would have gotten done. 

What he is good at is spending money on things he never knew he needed until now, but now he knows he wants or needs them he absolutely  _ has  _ to have them. Even Harry thinks he’s gone absolutely bonkers on a few things, but he doesn’t care. He’s getting a race car chair and a toastie maker and a drinks fridge for the living room and nobody can tell him no because he’s a grown man, damnit. 

He’s not very good at remembering to hide the receipts for his stupid purchases though. 

So when the lads come over to help them build some flat pack furniture and he forgets to move their stack of receipts from the coffee table, he lives to regret it. 

“You spent how much on a duvet cover?” Niall shrills as he picks up the delivery note for their latest purchase, eyes practically bugging out his head. Louis snatches it back and scowls. 

“Yes, I did.”

“You make too much money,” Niall mutters. 

“Look, it’s an  _ investment,”  _ Louis tries to reason. He spins around, ready to find Harry to defend his honour and as he does Liam snatches the delivery note out his hand. 

“Fucking Jesus  _ Christ _ , Louis Tomlinson,” he shrieks as he reads it. “You’ve lost your fucking mind.” He turns to Zayn. “Babe, would you kill me if I spent over two hundred quid on a duvet cover?”

“I’d have your fucking balls,” Zayn tells him cheerily. “You’ve got to be a fucking maniac to spend that much money on a duvet cover.”

“All it takes is one jizz stain in the wrong place for it to be ruined forever,” Niall says sagely. 

“Listen here arseholes, it’s my money and it’s my bed,” Louis hisses, hands on hips. He opens his arms as his boyfriend re-enters the room, a drink in each hand, and once he’s handed Louis his beer he lets Louis curl his arms around his middle. “Harry, tell them.”

“You spend one third of your life in bed,” Harry tells the room. “So good bed sheets are a must. And these ones are super soft and sleek and they go with the room theme.”

“Room theme?” Liam and Niall sneer at the same time. Louis glares at them. 

“Yes, a room theme,” he says happily, patting Harry’s hip. “We’re going for navy and cream with mustard accents, then navy and mustard in the en-suite.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” Liam crows dramatically, hand on his heart. “My Louis would never care about a room theme.”

“He would,” Harry pouts indignantly. “Well, I mean, I’ve picked the themes and done most of the shopping and the design work.” He glances down at Louis,his smile looking less and less real with every passing second. “But he’s happy to, like…” 

Liam snorts, glancing at a pretend watch as Harry struggles to finish his sentence. “He’s happy to…?”

“Be in the room?” Harry tries weakly, going pink as the other three lads roar with laughter. “Louuuu, tell them.”

“Harry is the artist, I am his muse and you can all fuck off,” Louis snarls at them, curling closer to Harry defensively. “Leave me and my boy alone, cunts.”

“God, so defensive over your two hundred-pound bedsheets.” Liam wraps his arms around both of them together, smacking a kiss onto each of their cheeks. “We’re only teasing you, posh boys.”

“I’m from fucking Doncaster,” Louis reminds him sharply. “Harry’s the posh one here. I’m just the most successful and talented one of the lot of you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Liam tuts. “Success doesn’t mean you need to give rooms a theme though.”

Louis slaps him on the dick for that. 

Later that night, when the lads have all gone after they’ve erected a TV stand, a sideboard and a bathroom cabinet that’s followed by them all demolishing a Chinese takeaway, Harry and Louis snuggle together in their two hundred-pound bedsheets, kissing lazily. Their new mattress is soft but supportive on his back, the fabric of the bedsheets feels like heaven on his bare skin, and Harry smells like home. His hand rests on the small of his back and they’re resting chest to chest. The lights are low and Louis’s exhausted but he’s  _ happy _ . There isn’t anywhere in the world he’d rather be than right here. 

He hums against Harry’s lips, all ready to deepen the kiss and turn this make-out session into them christening the bed, but Harry breaks the kiss suddenly and stares at him, pouting. 

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Do you  _ like  _ the room theme?” Harry asks in a small voice, sounding a little bit like a kid that’s been told off. “Do you really think that makes me look posh?”

Louis lets out a cackle and pulls his indignant boyfriend back into his arms. “Oh, my sweet posh baby darling boy.”

Harry whines and tries to wiggle away. “ _ Why _ didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” Louis asks, a bit baffled. “That I kind of love how posh you are? That I think it’s fucking great that you’re creating a living space for us that doesn’t look like students live here? That I love you and I love that you love me even though you clearly think I can't be trusted with any home decor choices?”

“You couldn’t be trusted with home decor choices, it’s true,” Harry harrumphs. “Otherwise we’d have cupboards full of ripped pasta packets with no order to them.” He stops wiggling and rests his head on Louis’s bare chest, staring up at him with wide eyes. “Are you, like, annoyed that I’ve taken control of our home design like this?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Not even a little bit, love. I think it’s nice and I honestly love everything you’ve done so far.” He tucks the duvet up to Harry’s neck and snuggles them into this. “And fuck what those idiots say about it, if that’s what’s gotten you feeling like this. They don’t know what they’re missing with these bedsheets.”

Harry giggles. “You’re right, I suppose. I just don’t want your friends to think I’m controlling.”

Louis snorts. “Baby, I think that’s the last thing they’d think of you. If anything, Liam and Zayn would call it being whipped.”

“Yeah, well I’m just as whipped for you,” Harry mumbles sternly, looking adorably earnest.He sighs. “It didn’t really bother me, it was just like…” He groans. “I hate that I’m making this a big deal, that I even brought it up, I’m sorry.” He rolls on top of Louis instead, boxing him in. “Let’s have first night in our new flat sex instead.”

Louis raises an eyebrow and jabs his finger into the centre of Harry’s chest. “No sex until you explain what’s wrong, Mister.”

“Not even if I do this?” Harry’s face is the picture of innocence as he rests back on his haunches, reaching to cup Louis’s dick through his boxers. 

Louis glares and bats him away. “Harry.”

Harry sighs and drops his hands. “Liam… Liam said that he didn’t recognise you anymore and I wondered if he meant that seriously or not, and then I got all grumpy about it.”

Louis blinks at him. “What? Did he say that to you?”

“He went ‘who are you and what have you done with my best friend?’ and he pretended to cry,” Harry mumbles. 

“Liam’s an idiot,” Louis says, reaching for Harry and coaxing him back forward for a cuddle. Harry goes very willingly, his long body tucking himself under Louis’s arm like he’s trying to make himself small, something he does when he’s feeling sad and insecure. Louis’s going to kick Liam in the balls the next time he sees him. “He’s a fucking dickhead is what he is.”

Despite everything, Harry snorts a laugh. “He’s your best friend.”

“He is, which is why he needs to not be a prick to my boyfriend,” Louis says, stroking the fringe out of Harry’s eyes. “Look, baby, he’s not wrong in that I’ve changed but he’s definitely teasing. He knows I’m super happy at the moment, like, happier than I’ve been in bloody years.”

“Yeah?” Harry still sounds unsure.

“Baby, before you in these last couple of years, I’ve been a wreck,” Louis admits. “This time two years ago I was pretty much at rock bottom, you know? I’d just lost my sister out of the blue, my boyfriend had punched me then fucked off…” He cuddles Harry in closer. “I like the Louis I am when I’m with you. If the worst thing in my life right now is that I’ve got a gorgeous posh boyfriend who wants to match our bedding to the curtains then I think it’s going alright for me. And Liam knows this and he’s teasing  _ me,  _ not you. So don’t worry your pretty little head about it, darling, because even if I have changed it’s for the better.”

“Yeah?” Harry says again, sounding a bit more hopeful. He’s so adorable when he pouts that Louis can’t help but giggle and then kiss the pout right off his face. 

“Yeah,” he says firmly, then smacks his bum. “Now stop pouting and kiss me, fool.”

Louis often thinks that the best sex they have is the slow kind, the kind that Harry calls making love because he’s sappy and serious and likes to remind Louis on a regular basis that there’s a difference between fucking and having sex and making love, which Louis thinks is a bit too complicated. But sometimes, just sometimes, he can see where Harry’s coming from, because their slow, passionate sex is definitely what Louis thinks about when someone says  _ making love.  _

Harry’s bigger body covers Louis’s like a blanket as they tangle together, kissing constantly, their hands all over each other’s bodies. Harry’s thrusts into Louis are slow and deep, sharp and driven, and Louis hooks his ankles behind Harry’s back so they’re pressed as close together as they physically can be. Louis doesn’t even want to touch himself because he wants this to last as long as possible, content to keep one hand tangled in Harry’s hair, the other cupping the back of his neck as they kiss for what feels like decades. 

Time feels like it’s at a standstill. Everything is molten heat and Louis is on fire, pleasure tingling through him from his head to his toes. Harry doesn’t stop kissing him, not until he starts squirming from over-stimulation and Harry moves to change pace, pushing Louis’s legs up higher so the angle changes and he can hit Louis’s spot with ease. 

“Love you,” he grunts, sliding his hand down and resting it on Louis’s stomach where, if he thrusts deep enough, he can feel the top of his cock. When they realised they could feel it this way Louis deemed it the hottest thing of all time, and even now just the reminder of how deep Harry can get inside him spurs him ever closer to his impending orgasm. 

Louis comes first, his back arching off the bed as he comes untouched. Harry isn’t far behind him, thrusting into Louis a few more times before his orgasm hits him and he uses Louis’s tired body to work himself through it. 

They lie curled together after that, spent and sweaty but both too lazy to do anything about it. 

“We better shower,” Louis mumbles, though he really doesn’t want to. “These bed sheets were two hundred quid Haz, we can’t ruin them with jizz on night number one.”

Harry snorts into his neck. “That’s the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Louis laughs and tugs Harry into a seated position. He kisses the pout off his face. “Darling, I’m doing this for our own good.” He pats Harry’s cheek. “Up.”

They shower and stumble back to bed naked and a little damp and a lot less sweaty and gross than before. 

They’re about to fall asleep when Louis speaks, quietly, half assuming Harry might be asleep by now. He isn’t though, his eyes flicking open as Louis starts to talk. 

“What I said earlier, about you making me a different person,” he says quietly, curling a hand around Harry’s jaw. “You make me a better person, not just a different person. And I’m better with you in my life than I ever was without you.” His cheeks are flaming with the admission and he’s glad it’s dark so Harry can’t see him, but even though he feels embarrassed and sappy he needs Harry to know. “You’re everything I needed, Harry Styles. And I don’t think I could have asked for you, couldn’t have dreamed up someone like you in my head, even; but you’re absolutely everything and I adore you.”

Harry makes a pleased sound and shakes his head against the pillow. “Jesus, Louis _ ,” _ he whines, burying his face in Louis’s shoulder. “You get really cheesy late at night and one day you’re gonna actually make me cry.” He then kisses Louis’s shoulder. “But ditto. I like who I am now more than ever before. You make me happy, you make me feel safe and it’s like… you’re my best friend, Lou.”

“Now who’s cheesy,” Louis teases, poking him in the belly button, a spot on Harry that he knows is sensitive. “Look at us here in our own home in our fucking extortionate bedsheets being all in love and shit. How nice is this?”

“I’ll show you nice,” Harry grumbles. He grabs Louis and starts tickling him mercilessly, making Louis shriek and kick out, their lovey-dovey spell from a few seconds ago broken as they wrestle and snog and end up rutting against each other to their second orgasm of the evening. 

They’re both bloody insatiable,  _ honestly.  _

He’s never had a relationship where the sex has felt like it’s something they want to be doing rather than something they should be doing. Even with his uni boyfriend before that, they were always fucking but that’s because it almost felt like that’s what they needed to be doing, the same way going out and getting drunk four times a week was the norm. But with Harry it’s refreshing and it’s varied and it’s delightful, for lack of a better word. He loves having sex with Harry because it’s Harry he’s having sex with and that’s a revelation in itself. 

He loves being with Harry in any capacity, but the fact they’re so compatible in the bedroom is the most incredible bonus. 

He wants Harry in his life for a long time, which isn’t a groundbreaking realisation, but it does lead him on to have a few more thoughts about their sex life. He wants to try new things, things that have always crossed his mind but he never felt comfortable asking from Henry. Things like blindfolding or tying him to the bed, which in hindsight seem fairly tame compared to some of the fantasies Harry expressed, but he wants to try nonetheless. And if you can’t dabble sexually in your mid-twenties, while Louis’s still on the right side of being able to come twice a day, when can you?

Two whole weeks pass in beautiful domestic bliss before the idea crosses Louis’s mind. Two whole weeks of tea left on the kitchen counter for him when he wakes up, of joint supermarket trips and cafe breakfasts on weekends and films watched tucked together under blankets until late into the night. 

Two weeks of bubble baths in the evenings, shared showers in the mornings and anything they need in between as they spend their lazy weekend days in bed until noon, pulling each other off and kissing until their lips hurt. Two weeks of lazy morning shags and gentle goodnight kisses and arms around waists while the other cooks or gets dressed or brushes their teeth. 

It’s literally domestic bliss and Louis is in love with it. 

One night, on their two week anniversary of living together, it crosses Louis’s mind. They’ve just had a fantastic fuck - Louis lying there while Harry rode his cock ever so slowly, warm and tight and ever-so-slow. Harry’s necklaces bounce with every thrust before they start to stick to his chest the sweatier he gets and sometimes he moves to push his hair back from his face, shuddering with pleasure when his grip falters and he loses his touch of control. 

He’s ethereal when they fuck. 

When Harry comes, it’s with a loose hand around his prick and Louis’s name on his lips, and it goes  _ everywhere.  _ He comes loads, painting Louis’s stomach with streaks of jizz before he totters forward, like the orgasm used up the last of his strength. Louis pulls him down and fists a hand in his hair as they kiss lazily, fucking into his spent body a few more times before he shudders and comes himself. 

They pant into each other’s mouths as they come down from their highs, both sticky and sweaty and sleepy. “Good?” Louis grunts, then shifts his hips to pull out, but Harry clenches around him. 

“Good,” he confirms. “Stay in me a bit?”

Louis kisses him on the nose and cuddles him in tighter - it’s warm and a little gross but it’s worth it to be close to Harry like this. Harry’s hand cups his jaw and his chapped lips pepper kisses into his chin and neck, and Louis smiles. 

“Comfy?”

“Comfy,” Harry confirms. He wiggles his bum a bit and Louis keens. “You comfy yourself, darling?”

“Peachy,” Louis gasps, then shudders as Harry moves forward just enough for his mostly-soft dick to fall out his arse. Cum leaks up the side of the condom and he moves to sit up to rip it off, all the while trying to keep a hand in a pouting Harry’s hair. 

“Jizz is gross,” he comments lightly. “Why is there so much of it every time?”

Harry blinks at him dopily. “Cos there’s two of us?”

“Yeah, alright, smartarse.” Louis ties the condom up as best he can before he drops it in the bin beside the bedside table, then he reaches into Harry’s bedside drawer for the pack of baby wipes he keeps in there. He’s such a little boy scout. He takes one for himself before he hands the packet to Harry and they both make quick work of wiping themselves up. 

Very romantic. 

Harry snuggles down onto the pillow once he’s discarded his wipe and Louis follows suit, flicking off the lamp and plunging the room into sleepy darkness before draping an arm across his middle and resting his hand above Harry’s bum, splayed across the small of his back. His fingers brush the warm skin there and he thinks idly about just sliding a finger down into Harry’s hole, feeling how loose he’d be now after taking Louis’s cock. 

And then the thought hits him. 

What if, after a fuck like this, he could finger Harry and feel his cum still inside him? 

What if they could fuck without that feeling of latex between them? He knows it’s a lot cleaner and easier this way, which is why he’s always used a condom, but now he’s with Harry he doesn’t think he minds the idea of cleaning it up after, especially if it’s Harry he’s showering with. 

Why  _ aren’t _ they fucking bare? Is that too much of a commitment thing? Is that something boyfriends who live together but haven’t been together that long do?

So as he always does in any relationship panic, he calls Zayn and Liam after Harry’s left in the morning and demands to meet them for lunch. 

Granted, the question  _ when did you guys stop using condoms?  _ perhaps isn’t the most tactful greeting for a busy pub at lunchtime, but it’s not like Louis’s ever been the most tactful person either. 

“I’m sorry?” Liam sounds horrified and Zayn hasn’t stopped laughing for a good five minutes. “Did you really just ask us that?”

“I did,” Louis says, unabashed. “Come on Liam, we’ve been friends practically since birth, you can talk to me about barebacking.”

“Yeah, babe.” Zayn wipes at his eyes and curls his arm through Liam’s. “Talk to Louis about barebacking.”

Liam gapes at him. “But you’re right here,” he says through gritted teeth, like Zayn hadn't realised that himself. “It’s weird talking about our sex life when you’re right here. And it’s  _ weird.  _ Did I mention that I’m finding this weird? _ ” _

“Weird?” Louis scoffs, hands on hips. “I was there when you kissed your first girl and cried about it, Payno. Get a fucking grip.”

Liam throws his hands up. “Why do you even want to know?”

“Um, because I want to stop using condoms with my boyfriend, duh.”

“Yeah, and?” Liam puts his arm back around Zayn’s shoulders. “Zayn and I have been together since we were teenagers and you and Harry have been together for what, five months?”

“Six and a half,” Louis corrects proudly. They’d celebrated their six month anniversary about ten days ago - Harry had cooked a ridiculously fancy pasta dish that Louis definitely had no business eating three plates of when he’s technically not allowed any dairy this week, what with the  _ Joseph _ soundtrack recording coming up, then they’d fucked on the sofa and then again in the shower. He’s so smitten he doesn’t know how to act anymore. 

“Look at you,” Zayn snorts, throwing a peanut at him. “God, I’ve known you for ten years and this is the gayest I’ve ever seen you. And I’ve walked in on you giving head.”

“Yes, thank you Zayn,” Louis says loudly, reaching over the table so he can grab a peanut to throw back. “God, you’re both so annoying. Just tell me when you stopped using condoms and then this conversation can end.”

Liam looks at Zayn and Zayn looks at Liam. “Maybe… like a year in? Eighteen months in?” 

“It was when we lived in halls at uni we stopped using them, and if we ever go home or to a hotel or whatever we still use them,” Liam says, blushing furiously. “Not that we have sex all that much when we go home but you know.”

“We like having the option, don’t we, baby?”

“Gross,” Louis says, wrinkling his nose. He’s been friends with these two for forever, was best man at their wedding and has seen them in many a compromising position, but it’s still like hearing about his brothers having sex. “Okay, so with that in mind do you think six and a half months is too soon?”

Zayn shrugs and Liam shakes his head. “Do you think it’s too soon?”

“Clearly not or else I wouldn’t be asking,” Louis says dryly. He slumps in his seat and looks down at his sandwich. Harry has made it for him this morning using bread he’d baked himself. Louis thinks he might genuinely be an angel in disguise. “Well, look. Clearly I’d not had sex for, like, basically two years after the whole Henry thing and now I’m having more sex than I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Good,” Zayn says enthusiastically right as Liam says, “gross” and shudders dramatically. Zayn slaps him on the shoulder. “And you’re serious enough to feel like you’re happy to not use them anymore?”

“Henry and I never didn’t use one,” Louis says quietly. “I’ve never done it bareback before.”

Liam blinks at him and Zayn doesn’t even try to stop his mouth from dropping open. “Huh?” Liam says dumbly, eyes unblinking. “What, never?”

Louis shakes his head. “Nope, not once.”

“But…” Liam can’t stop staring at him. Any embarrassment from five minutes ago seems to have been forgotten. “But you were together for so  _ long.” _

“Yep,” Louis says, popping the P loudly. “Weird, innit? But to be honest, I’ve probably had more sex with Harry in these last few months than I had with Henry, like, overall.”

“Nah,” Zayn drawls, throwing another peanut at him. “Like, you can't squeeze the equivalent of four years of sex into six months. I don’t see how that’s possible.”

“Yeah, well, it’s possible because Harry has the stamina of a bloody teenager and I’ve got a two year dry spell to catch up from,” Louis tells them. “Plus Harry is a lot more adventurous in bed and also open to being versatile. Henry was such a bloody top, only let me fuck him maybe three times our own relationship. But Harry loves bottoming, it’s great.”

“God, Henry was such a miserable bastard,” Zayn says. “Like, no offence Lou, you could one hundred percent tell he was the top, but we always had it down as it being like a 75/25 split.”

“So you did discuss my sex life,” Louis says triumphantly, pointing a finger between them. “So really when you were complaining about this conversation it’s you didn’t want to be proved wrong? Jammy bastards.”

“Hardly,” Liam snorts, but Louis barrels on.

“Harry literally has the upper body strength of a top but the legs of a bottom, it’s amazing,” he says dreamily. “Like the other week he held me up against the living room wall and fucked me because I mentioned off-hand that I’ve always wanted to try that. And then, once we’d had some ice cream and finished our episode of  _ Midsummer Murders _ , he let me literally bend him in half on the bed. He can practically get his knees up to his ears.”

“Now look what you’ve done,” Liam groans, headbutting the top of Zayn’s arm. “He’s never going to shut up now.”

“And he remembers things I tell him I wanna try and then lets me do them, like, straight away,” Louis continues. “Like when we had some strawberries as a snack the other night and I mentioned how much I want to try using food in the bedroom? The next night he bought some more as well as some whipped cream and let me eat the strawberries off his nipples and suck the cream off his cock, it was so much fun.”

“I am literally begging you to stop.”

“We literally can’t seem to stop having sex, you see,” Louis says, then sighs. He cracks open his can of Lilt and takes a long swig. “And I think I’m scarring the lady in the Tesco Express down the road with the sheer amount of condoms I buy on the regular. Like a box of 12 a week minimum.”

“Jesus Christ, Louis, how do you have the time?” Liam shrills. He glances at Zayn. “Even with work not being as busy at the moment that’s still wild. We’re doing it like once a week?”

“Yeah, about once a week,” Zayn muses. “I think that’s normal for a couple who’s been together as long as we have?” He kisses Liam on the cheek. “Maybe even quite good for a couple who’ve been together this long.”

“Right, well this conversation has served no use to me at all, so thanks for nothing, assholes.” Louis crosses his arms and scowls. 

“I mean, I think we got the short end of the stick here, cos now I’m going to have to look Harry in the eye and pretend I don’t know you sucked whipped cream off his dick,” Liam says flatly. He crosses his arms. “How am I meant to look him in the eye when we see him later? Please tell me.”

“You’ll live, dear,” Zayn says, rolling his eyes as he patronisingly strokes over Liam’s head. “Anyway, I think in all honesty you’re stressing too much about this. You've just moved in together, you’re gonna be sharing a bed every night for the foreseeable future…” He cocks his head to one side. “Are you sure this is what’s bothering you?”

Louis slumps in his seat, dropping his head to pick at the discarded crust of his sandwich. He hates how perceptive Zayn can be sometimes. “It’s just… it’s going so well,” he sighs out. “We don’t… nothing has gone wrong yet and that’s… weird?”

Both men across the table stare at him. “Yeah, and?” Zayn questions, not unkindly. “That’s amazing for you, darling.”

“It’s what you deserve,” Liam adds, sounding so incredibly sincere that Louis throws another peanut at him. “Ow, what the fuck?”

“Look,” Zayn says while he gently rubs at the spot Louis hit on Liam’s forehead. “I’m going to be blunt with you because I love you and I want to bring this conversation to a close before you kill my husband, alright?”

“What?” Louis grumbles. 

“You’re in your head and you’ve started comparing Harry to Henry again.” Zayn thrusts a finger in his face. “And that’s not fair, Louis. Harry is a good person and yeah, I imagine it is quite shocking to come out of a relationship you weren’t happy in to go into one you’re really happy in. Especially because I know you thought you and Henry kind of assumed you’d get married and stuff.” Louis just stares at him. “But he was a fucking bastard and you’re looking back with the benefits of hindsight now, you’ve moved on and you’re infinitely happier with Harry and you don’t need to compare your relationship now to him because what you two have is clearly very special.” 

“I think Harry loves me more than Henry ever did,” Louis admits. “And I don’t know how to take that sometimes.”

“Take it for what it is, which is a blessing.” Zayn grins at him. “Imagine finding someone you love this much. Do you think you love him more than you loved Henry?”

“Fucking loads more,” Louis scoffs. “I don’t even know how I ever thought… alright, fuck off, no need to look so smug.”

Zayn stands up and crosses over to Louis, where he takes his face in his hands and presses a long kiss onto his forehead. 

“You know I’m right,” he sing-songs, then stalks off in the direction of the bathroom. 

“He is right,” Liam chimes in, warily eyeing the bag of peanuts on the table. “Harry’s great and you’re great and you make a great couple. Even if you do use whipped cream in the bedroom.”

Louis throws a handful of peanuts at him this time. 

Instead of taking an Uber home he chooses to walk back from the pub so he’s got a bit of time to reflect on all the information that he feels like he’s been bombarded with in the last two hours. 

Has he been comparing Harry to Henry without really realising he’s doing so? Have they been moving too fast because all Louis knows is what it’s like to be in a serious relationship? 

Does Harry know he’s doing this? Has Harry himself made any connections or comparisons to any of his exes? 

Does it even matter when he and Harry are as in love as they are?

So he waits a couple of days before he brings it up to Harry himself. It’s a Tuesday night and Harry’s been at work all day while Louis’s been at home sorting through the rest of his clothes. They cook a risotto together, split a bottle of white wine and settle down for a fairly chilled evening on the sofa because neither of them want to do any more unpacking . 

Around 9pm, Louis finds himself draining the end of the bottle into his glass and he necks it for some dutch courage. He clears his throat.

“Babe, can I ask you a question?”

Harry looks up from his Sudoku book, peering at Louis over his reading glasses. “Yeah, love?”

Louis gently takes the book out of his hands and tucks his pen between the pages like a bookmark, then does what he always seems to do when he knows he has to have a serious chat with Harry and climbs into his lap. “Hi, baby.”

Harry wraps his arms around Louis’s middle and presses a kiss between his eyes. “Hi yourself.”

“I want to ask you something because obviously we’re now decided to live together and it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a bit,” Louis hums. “And I know this is a big, like, serious relationship thing so if you need to think about it then…”

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” Harry deadpans. Louis smacks him on the chest. 

“Ha ha,” he titters. “Listen, I hope you know that when I do propose it’ll be better than this.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Yes, I do know. But you’ve clearly got something you actually want to talk about, so have at it, honey.”

“Right,” Louis starts. “It’s about sex.”

Harry blinks at him. “Sex,” he repeats slowly. “Okay?”

“Having sex with you is great. I’m having the best time having sex with you and, if I may be so bold,” Louis leans forward and pecks a kiss onto Harry’s lips, “I know it might not be saying much given I was practically a virgin again when we met, but you’re the best I’ve ever had.”

“Ditto,” Harry grins. “The best by a country mile.”

“You flatter me,” says Louis. “But I was wondering how you’d feel about getting tested.” Harry blinks at him. “So we can do it without condoms. It’s not that I think you’ve got anything. Well, or even that I think I’ve got something. I mean, I was with Henry for four years and I never got tested so maybe you think I should get tested…” He gawks at Harry. “Please don’t think this is me suddenly thinking I have an STI.”

Harry snorts. “I don’t think you have an STI, Lou.” He brushes their noses together. “I think I want to get tested so we can have sex without a condom though.” He grins. “I think I’d like that very much a lot actually.”

“Yeah?” Louis asks. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous about this. “Are you sure? Cos I know this is, like, serious relationship stuff.”

“Well, last time I checked we were in a serious relationship,” Harry says. “I’m very serious about you, if you couldn’t already tell.” He licks his lips. “And I’ve never had bareback sex with a man before but I’ve always wanted to.”

Louis flushes. “But presumably, I mean, that means you have with women?”

Harry shrugs and nods. “I was with Kendall for like two years and she was on the pill the entire time. It’s different with girls, I think.” He smirks. “Not that you’d know.”

Louis slaps him on the chest. “Cheeky fucker.”

Harry looks at him very seriously. “Well, have you ever cleaned cum out your arse?”

“Harry!” Louis shrills, scandalised at his bluntness. “No, I have not.”

“Me neither, cos it sounds bloody weird,” Harry says with a giggle. “Well. Maybe I should say it sounded weird. Because I really want it with you. I can't explain what about it is so appealing but I really want to do it with you.” 

Louis kisses him. “Yeah?” He wiggles his bum in Harry’s lap. “Maybe it’s because we’re so in love.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, sounding deadly serious. He pulls Louis even closer, so they're practically forehead to forehead. “Probably.”

Louis squirms. Harry always stares at him so intensely when he says things like that that he almost feels like he has to look away. He can’t explain it. And then, because apparently he loves a bit of self-sabotage, he asks, “So you used to shag your girlfriends without condoms then?”

Harry scowls at him. His brows furrow together, like he can’t understand why Louis brought that up. To be fair, Louis can’t understand it himself either. He can see why Liam and Zayn keep having a go at him for making everything a comparison now. 

“Well, yeah, but as I said it was different.” He loosens his grip on Louis a little so they can look at each other better. “But only with two of them, and obviously I was with Kendall for a good long while so she was on contraception and she had a latex allergy.” He shrugs. “Are you… jealous?”

“No,” Louis grumbles. It’s weak to his own ears. “Not even a little bit.”

Harry’s expression softens.“You’re such a gorgeous little idiot,” he hums, then ducks down and coaxes him into a filthy, messy kiss. His hands tangle in Louis’s hair and Louis finds himself pawing at Harry’s chest, fucking his tongue into Harry’s mouth and pressing their chests together. If he thought he was fooling him before, he’s doing an even worse job at fooling him now. When they break apart they’re both panting. “But I love you, idiot.”

“I love you too,” Louis mumbles, his grip on Harry tightening possessively even though it’s only the two of them in the room. “Look, I’m just… I actually quite like you, would you believe, and I don’t like the idea of you shagging anyone else, alright?”

“Well, lucky for you I don’t much like the idea of shagging anyone else,” Harry titters. He kisses Louis on the nose. “Kendall could walk in here now all done up and naked and…”

Louis slaps his chest. “Shut the fuck up.”

“...And I wouldn’t look twice at her.” Harry’s laughing as he ducks back in to kiss Louis again, cupping a possessive hand around the back of his neck. “I only have eyes for you, lovely Louis.”

They end up snogging on the sofa for a lot longer than Louis had intended to, but he’s not complaining. And for the rest of the evening they can’t seem to keep their hands off each other, which isn’t anything particularly far from the norm, but Louis feels even more drawn to Harry tonight. Anticipation thrums through him at the idea of having this, being like this, being so trusting of and trusted by someone that you’re doing it bareback. 

His stomach drops at the fleeting thought that, if it hadn’t all ended the way that it did, he could have carried on in a mediocre relationship for the rest of his life, barely seeing either other and, when they did go to bed together, still fucking with condoms in their forties. 

So he’s clingy with Harry for the rest of the night, but Harry is just as clingy back. He’s so good at knowing when Louis needs the extra reassurance, a silent reminder that this is their life now and it’s good and everything is going to be okay, because Louis sure as shit isn’t voicing any of this out loud. But Harry’s there, holding him while they watch the telly, stroking through his hair and kissing him soundly as a thank you for stacking the dishwasher. He lets Louis go first in the shower, lights candles all around the flat, changes the bedsheets and remembers to press re-order on their Tesco food delivery so it comes tomorrow while they’re both at home.

It’s domestic and it’s simple and it’s perfect.

This is the night where Louis realises that he might want this for the rest of his life. He always knew he wanted a boyfriend who made him feel safe and loved and like their future would always be bright, but here and now, standing in their shared shower in their shared home, he thinks that person could be Harry.

And later that night, when they’re in bed together and Harry’s fucking him from behind, his arms around Louis’s middle while Louis fucks himself up and down on his cock, their hips meeting on every thrust, Harry bites at Louis’s shoulder and slurs out, “God, imagine how tight you’ll feel around me when we’re doing this bare.”

Louis pretty much shoots his load at just those words. 

He’s so excited, for this step and for this future, that he can barely stand it. 

So they make an appointment at the clinic for a dreary Monday morning so they can get tested at the same time. It’s an unexciting and slightly awkward affair but they both leave feeling accomplished and excited, both of them clearly ready for what’s to come next. 

The results are texted to them three days later. 

“Clean,” Harry yells triumphantly, then breaks into a ridiculous dance in the middle of the kitchen. “I’m clean, I’m clean…”

“Yippee for you, my darling,” Louis says dryly, but he’s just as thrilled. “I literally went in before you, why haven’t I got my text yet?”

His phone buzzes at that exact moment. 

He thumbs open the text and beams when he reads what it says. 

“Guess who’s clean too?”

“Is it you?” Harry says, grin like the Cheshire cat as he comes over and wraps Louis in his arms. Louis cuddles him back, then lets out a squeak of excitement at the thought of what could and probably will happen in the next ten minutes, their dinner be damned. “Shall we rock paper scissors over who gets to bottom first?”

“I mean, I’m absolutely more than happy to do it,” Louis teases. He’s kind of expected himself to be the one that goes first, if he’s honest - he’s still not used to topping, or even having the discussion in advance over who’s fucking who that night. 

And not even that, he’s absolutely  _ ecstatic  _ with his results. Not that he was really expecting anything different, but for the past couple of nights he’s had it in his head that perhaps Henry had been that much of a piece of shit. He has no real reason to think that Henry cheated, but he also didn’t think Henry would be physically violent, so he’s been justifying it and working himself up about it more than he cares to admit. 

But he’s  _ clean.  _ And tonight he’s going to let Harry fuck him bare. 

Harry snorts as he comes over and scoops Louis up into his arms. “I think we both know it’s gonna be you that goes first, babe. I was only joking.” 

“God, does everyone just look at me and think I’m a bottom?” Louis sighs. Zayn and Liam were right and he’s pretty pissed off about it. 

Not pissed off enough to give up being first to bottom, but it’s the  _ principle.  _

Harry blinks. “I don’t think you’re a bottom exclusively, I think we kind of share that, really. I just know you prefer bottoming cos I’m the one that’s topping you?”

“Whatever, let’s fuck.” Louis grabs both of Harry’s hands and drags him towards the bedroom, shaking his hips as he goes. He doesn’t need Harry to get all reasonable on him right now. “Did you buy lube?”

Harry snorts. “Did I buy lube? I buy lube every time I’m near a bloody chemist these days. We're running through it like water.”

Louis laughs as he wraps his arms around Harry’s neck and frogmarches them back towards the bed. Once his knees hit the mattress he sinks them down so Harry’s on top. They kiss until their lips feel bruised, until Louis is so heady with love and lust that he can’t work out where his body starts and Harry’s body finishes.

And then Harry has to go and break the tension. 

“We’re gonna, we’re gonna fuck bare,” he sing-songs to the tune of  _ We Will Rock You  _ by Queen. Louis pinches his nipple. 

“Fucking hell, Harry,” he has to laugh. “You really know how to keep the spark alive.”

Harry giggles and nips at Louis’s bottom lip. “Are you saying that me singing killed your boner or something?”

“I don’t think there’s much that could kill my boner right now,” Louis answers honestly. “But don’t keep singing. Let’s not risk it.”

“Such a git,” Harry tuts as he wrestles his shirt over his head. He flexes his pecks in that way that he knows makes Louis go all mushy. “Now take off your shirt.”

They make quick work of shedding their clothing, not all too fussed about the foreplay today because that isn’t the point of this. They still spend a lot of time making out because they always do, unable to get enough of one another, but this time it’s Louis who breaks the kiss and spreads his legs, fumbling in the drawer next to their bed for their lube. 

“What are we gonna do with those two unopened boxes of condoms?” Harry asks as Louis chucks the lube for him to catch. 

Louis levels him with a look. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” He makes a show of rolling over and wiggles his bum in the air. “Think about this instead, please.”

Harry chuckles as he rolls Louis back over onto his back, grabbing him under his knees and pulling him forward so he’s propped upwards, hole exposed to him. “I am always thinking about you,” he says, voice deep and rich as he leans down to kiss Louis again, licking into his mouth with a fiery passion. His hands feel like they’re all over him as he slides up his chest and back down, pushing his legs further apart. “I’m thinking about how six months ago there’s no way you would have raised your arse to me like that, but now…” He chuckles darkly, shuffling back so his mouth is hovering over Louis’s hole. “Now you’re a little fucking minx in bed, ready for me to fuck you bare.”

His breath is warm on Louis’s skin and Louis really isn’t in the mood for being teased. “Yeah, touch me.”

Harry lowers his mouth to where Louis wants it, tongue flicking out with practiced ease as he lavishes it over Louis’s hole, and Louis forgets how to breathe. 

He absolutely fucking loses it, moaning loudly at every lick as Harry presses in deeper with his tongue. There’s something about rimming that Harry fucking loves and he could (and often does) spend hours in between Louis’s legs, fucking his tongue in and out with his big hands on Louis’s plump cheeks to keep them spread. Louis loses himself in the feeling of it easily, obsessed with how into it Harry gets because nothing makes him feel sexier than this, being all exposed and completely at Harry’s mercy. He loves this more than penetrative sex a lot of the time. 

His back arches off the bed as Harry slides a finger into him,  _ just  _ wet enough for the one from the sheer amount of spit on him. “ _ Harry.” _

“God, you're so tight,” Harry mumbles, then spits directly over Louis’s hole. “Can’t wait to feel you around me, holy shit.”

“Uh,” is Louis’s very intelligible reply. He shudders as Harry adds lube to his hole directly and then twitches as he presses back inside, hips fucking down to meet Harry’s fingers. “Uh, so good,  _ yes.” _

Harry fingers him with expert ease, alternating between scissoring his fingers apart and pressing them up to curl against and hit Louis’s sweet spot in that way that he loves. He works up to four fingers quicker than usual, and normally Louis loves to draw out the foreplay but again, they both know tonight isn’t about that. 

Tonight is about making love. 

Harry starts to slide in slowly, inch by careful inch, stopping every few moments so Louis can adjust to the size. His legs are twitching like mad, sweat dripping down his temples, fingernails leaving grooves in Harry’s skin. 

“You feel unreal,” Harry grunts as he tries to steady his breathing, hands fisting in the seats above Louis’s head. “So fucking… so fucking tight for me, baby, holy  _ shit.” _

“Fuck,  _ Harry,”  _ Louis garbles, letting out something akin to a squeak once Harry is fully sheathed. His breathing is ragged and he feels so unbelievably full - Harry feels bigger like this, almost, and he wants to  _ cry,  _ it feels so good. Harry is biting his lip, staring down at him like he’s magic, and despite everything he grins up at him dopily. 

“I love you so much.”

“I… god, Louis.” Harry shakes his head as he moves back and then thrusts back in, slow and deep. “God, you just… I had no idea it was possible to love someone as much as I love you. I adore you.”

“Oh my  _ god _ ,” Louis cries as Harry starts picking up the pace, and he wraps his legs around Harry’s back to keep them as close as possible. Louis’s favourite kind of sex is when they’re face to face, but this feels like that amped up a level now they’re skin to skin as well. 

Louis has no idea how long they spend there but pretty soon the familiar warmth starts to build in his belly, his cock hard and red against his stomach. “Touch me,” he begs Harry, but before he’s even got an answer he wraps a hand around himself and jerks it quickly, desperate to take the edge off. “Harry, oh,  _ oh…” _

“Do you wanna come, baby?” 

Louis nods desperately, wailing as Harry pulls back to play with his nipple, something he’s recently learned is a sweet spot for him. “Yeah,” he whines, fucking his hips down to try and take Harry deeper again. He’s  _ so close _ and he thinks Harry is too, if the way his eyes have dropped close and his thrusts have gotten sloppier are anything to go by. “Yeah, Harry, make me come,  _ please.” _

“I’m gonna come, oh… oh shit, I’m coming…”

“Oh my god,” Louis wails as Harry thrusts upwards and spills inside him, his hips undulating up and keeping himself pressed deep inside Louis. He grunts and keeps himself pressed close to Louis as he does, his cum shooting inside him, warm and wet and  _ weird.  _

It’s a very strange feeling, but in a weird way he does feel closer to Harry now, like every part of him has touched and been touched by the man he loves. And not only that, this is something so incredible to do with the person you love because it feels like something so final, so personal, something you only do with the person you’re going to be with permanently. 

Just the thought of  _ that  _ makes him cling to Harry tighter and he comes  _ hard,  _ his body going limp as incredible, unadulterated pleasure shoots through his body. 

“I love you,” he cries out, head thrown back. Harry says it back and kisses his damp skin, fucking him through it until they’ve both mostly ridden out their highs. 

“Jesus Christ,” Harry pants. His chest is rising and falling so hard that his necklaces slide down the side of his neck, the metal cold as he smacks Louis on the nose.

“ _ Ow.” _

“Sorry,” Harry says, not sounding sorry in the slightest. He rolls over onto his side, rubbing a thumb over Louis’s sweaty face in apology. “God, that was brilliant, that was.”

“An out of body experience, truly,” Louis drawls, and he’s mostly being sarcastic but that was also quite possibly the best sex of his life. “Fucked the living daylights out of me, you did.”

“I am a sex god,” Harry boasts. He bundles Louis up into his chest and kisses his forehead. “And even though all you did was lie there…”

Louis squawks and tries to pull away but Harry cackles and hangs on to him, pulling him in for a messy kiss. 

“You were still bloody brilliant, my lovely Louis.”

“Gay,” Louis huffs, but he’s blushing. “You were alright too, I guess.”

“Very gay,” Harry hums. “Super gay to have sex with your boyfriend if you’re a man. One of the gayest things you can do, I’ve heard.”

“You’re so fucking chatty after sex,” Louis complains, then puts his finger in Harry’s open mouth as he yawns, smirking as Harry splutters. “Can’t we just cuddle and go to sleep like normal boyfriends?”

“No, cos you’ve got to go and clean cum out your arse,” Harry reminds him. “If you leave a jizz stain on our billion pound bedsheets, I’m breaking up with you.”

“That’s dramatic,” Louis tuts, groaning as he peels back the sheet from his body. He shuffles forward off the bed and stands up, wincing as he does so. “God, I can’t be arsed to shower.”

“You better,” Harry warms him, already sinking into Louis’s space and star fishing across the mattress. “I’ll be waiting right here for your return, my love.”

Louis scowls and rips the duvet off his naked body. “Fuck off. You jizz in me, you shower with me to help me clean up.”

Harry whines loudly but obediently follows him into the en-suite, where they shower and fall about in a fight of laughter as Louis tries to rinse everything out. 

“Jesus, Styles, your balls don’t look like they should hold that much,” he complains as he scrubs himself. “Am I clean now? Do I feel clean? I just don’t know.”

Harry watches Louis clean himself with great amusement. “So it’s a nice idea but it’s not always practical, is that what you’re saying?”

Louis pouts at him. “Now I didn’t say that. I didn’t say that at all.” He grins wickedly. “Oh my god, is it a thing for you to rim me after you’ve jizzed in me?”

Harry drops the soap. “Huh?” He pretends to look over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I thought I was showering with my boyfriend, Louis? He’s about five foot eight, light brown hair, usually quite nervous when it comes to talking about sex?”

Louis slaps him on the face with his sponge. “Piss off, you.”

Harry grins and circles his arms around Louis’s waist. “Yes, it is a thing. It’s called felching.”

“Well, if you ever want to do that with me you need to buck up your attitude, Mister.”

They continue to banter and bicker back and forth as they dry off and wrap up in their stupid matching dressing gowns that Niall and Hailee got them as housewarming presents before Harry serves them up the dinner he’d started cooking before they got the texts. They eat curled up on the sofa, legs tangled, and start watching a film that they don’t really watch because they end up talking and making out. 

Once they’ve shoved their dirty dishes in the sink they brush their teeth and clamber back into bed, clean and warm and merry. Harry flicks the light off and kisses Louis soundly before he rolls over, taking his favourite position as the little spoon. 

“I loved tonight,” he whispers into the darkness. “I love you.”

“I love you so much,” Louis whispers back, and his grip around Harry’s middle tightens as he kisses him on the back of the neck. “Even though your balls hold more jizz than one man’s should. A biological marvel you are”

The last thing he hears before he falls asleep are Harry’s soft chuckles that level out into soft snores. 

*

The week of Christmas sneaks up on Louis this year. Normally, when he’s working a pantomime everyone is counting down the weeks and the days until Christmas Eve, but this year he’s not working for the first time in forever, so all the days start to blur into one. He’s not really complaining about that because he’s had a December of festive and domestic bliss. Harry’s been baking mince pies and red velvet cupcakes non-stop now he’s not working either and the pair have been spending their days either in their flat eating the baked goods and having lots of sex or going on fun little day trips in and around London. 

So when the week of his birthday and Christmas arrives it takes him a bit by surprise. This year has gone so fast but in the best way, and he’s so excited to see his family for a bit. Spending a few days with them will be the perfect round off to a near-perfect year.

In an ideal world he’d love to stay for longer but he’s also going to meet Harry’s family as well this holiday season, which is exciting and terrifying all at once. He feels guilty enough about monopolising Harry for Christmas Day but Harry keeps insisting that it’s totally fine, that his mum doesn’t mind. He hopes that’s true. 

The drive from London to Doncaster is about five hours, but they make the most of it. Harry cranks up the Christmas tunes and they stop at a couple of services along the way to get warm drinks, which breaks up the journey a bit. 

By the time they get there it’s getting dark outside. Louis knows these roads like the back of his hand so he directs Harry easily. It’s been a full year since Louis was last here and he’s really missed the place. This is where he grew up, after all, and even though the house he grew up in has long since been sold, his dad’s house is the next best thing. 

Louis would never describe himself from coming from a broken home, but his family situation is a little disjointed and confusing to any outside. He no longer has contact with his biological father, who fucked off and left him and his mother when he was still in nappies, but his step-dad, Mark, was bloody brilliant at stepping into the role like he’d always had a son. 

Mark had officially adopted him at the age of ten, which is one of the reason’s his split from Louis’s mother had been so difficult. It had been as amicable of a split as you could have hoped for - two people with years of history just coming to the realisation that they loved each other but they weren’t  _ in _ love anymore - so when his mother remarried Dan and the pair were absolutely sickeningly in love with one another, it was easier to accept the split. Louis likes Dan well enough, even though they barely see each other, and the two younger twins that came as a result of their marriage were truly the perfect addition to their family. 

It was a little disjointed but there were so many people in Louis’s life that he loved and who loved him. He had best friends for life in Lottie and Fizzy, a mother who doted on him endlessly even though he was the eldest and most self-sufficient, and loads of littluns for him to dote on himself. 

Losing his mum to cancer and then losing Fizzy only a couple of years later had been the two worst things to happen to Louis by a long shot. He misses them like crazy every single day and even though the pain has gotten easier to manage, it’s never been easy. It’s especially noticeable at this time of the year, when Louis celebrates the two most important days of the year to him without them and it  _ hurts.  _

Having said that, everyone makes a lot of effort to keep it happy and light where they can, focusing on the good memories from the past rather than letting anyone dwell too much on the fact they aren’t there. They’re still a family unit, after all, and they all get through it together.

So when they pull up outside the Tomlinson residence to see a huge inflatable Santa on the roof, a string of lights shaped like reindeers across the garage door and obnoxiously bright fairy lights wrapped around the bins, Louis bursts out laughing.

Fuck, it feels good to be home.

“I see Daisy and Phoebe still do all the decorating then,” Lottie notes dryly. “The inside of the house looks much nicer, I promise.”

“Oh, leave it out,” Louis tuts. “It’s nice. It’s  _ fun _ . It has  _ character. _ ”

Lottie flicks him on the back of the head. “It’s awful and you know it. You only say it because it makes Daisy and Phoebe happy and they are absolutely more than old enough to be told it’s ugly as shit.”

“And are you going to be the one to do it?” Louis says, staring her down in the rearview mirror. “Are you?”

She flips him off and gets out of the car, chuntering as she stalks up the drive and lets herself into the house. Louis turns to Harry.

“Are you ready?”

“I don’t think you can be ready for something like this,” Harry says with a shake of his head. “But hey, if you think they’re gonna love me then I believe you.”

He looks  _ nervous.  _ Louis can’t remember the last time Harry looked nervous like this. “Harry, they’ll adore you, I promise. And shit, it’s not like I have a mother to impress, just a step-dad and a half.”

Harry frowns at him. “Lou.”

“Yes, okay, I know,” Louis rolls his eyes. “Come on, they’re gonna be wondering where we are.”

Hand in hand, they walk up the driveway and into Louis’s childhood home.

“Everybody, this is Harry,” he introduces, almost shyly, and Harry offers everyone a slightly awkward wave from the doorway. “Haz, this is Mark, my step-dad and Sallie, his wife. Then these two rascals…” He opens his arms and Daisy and Phoebe come barreling into him, almost knocking the wind clean out of him. “This is Daisy and this is Phoebe. They’re twins.”

Harry pretends to be shocked. “What? No way. But they look so  _ different. _ ”

“Harry is a comedian as well as my boyfriend,” Louis says dryly, giving each of the twins a kiss on the head. “God, you two! Are you grown ups now? What is this?”

They settle in with cups of warm tea while the twins vie for their big brother’s attention, desperate to tell him all about what they’ve got going on with college and their jobs in the local Topshop. Harry gets whisked away by Mark and Sallie into the kitchen so Louis doesn’t see him for a bit, but he isn’t worried. Mark is one of the gentlest men he knows and, like everyone close to Louis, is just keen to get to know the bloke that came after Henry and treats Louis infinitely better.

Once the three of them have made themselves at home, the car emptied and all their Christmas presents laid out under the tree, they pass around a takeaway menu and order a disgusting amount of Chinese food. They eat on their laps and watch  _ Elf  _ and it just epitomises what Louis loves about being home, spending the time with the people he loves without having to do anything fancy. This is the perfect example of the perfect Christmas and the perfect way to introduce Harry to his family.

It’s coming up to midnight when everyone starts to get ready for bed and Mark leads them upstairs to where they’ll be sleeping - the bedroom he used to stay in when he’d spend nights here after his mum and Mark split up.

“Louis and Lottie used to share a room when they’d stay here and they hated it,” Mark chuckles to Harry as he flicks on the light. Lottie is bunking with the twins for the night, so there’s no chance of that happening again, though he suspects it may have happened if he hadn’t opted to bring Harry with him. “Now it’s the guest room slash storage room as you can see, but.” He shrugs. “It’s not much but it’s home.” 

“It’s brilliant, thank you Mark,” Harry says politely, setting their suitcase on the bed. “Thank you ever so much for letting us stay here.”

“It’s no bother at all.” Mark gives him a quick squeeze on the shoulder before he leaves, which makes Louis’s heart flutter. Mark is the closest thing he has to a parent and it means a lot for him to welcome Harry in like he has. “See you lads in the morning.”

Louis reaches past Harry and pulls Mark into a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispers, and he feels Mark smile. He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t need to, and neither does Mark, but he gives Louis a quick squeeze to the back of his neck before he disappears out the room.

It’s weird, snuggling up to Harry in his childhood bedroom. It doesn’t have any of his stuff in anymore but it still feels homely in that unique way that only comes from staying in the house you grew up in, and he falls asleep pretty much the instant his head hits the pillow.

Louis wakes up to a bed to a lapful of the younger twins screeching, “Happy Birthday!” right in his ear and he’s not even mad about it because he’s missed the two of them _so much._ They still live with Dan, their dad and Jay’s husband at the time of her passing, in a house on the other side of town. Understandably Mark and Dan aren’t the best of friends, but they look past it all for the sake of the babies. 

Except the two babies in Louis’s arms right now aren’t babies at all. They aren’t even toddlers anymore, they’re coming up to  _ seven years old,  _ and Louis can barely stand it.

“My two favourite people in the whole world,” he shrieks, smacking kisses onto whatever part of them he can reach. “Oh my god, look at you! You’re so big now, are you sure…” He frowns. “Are you sure you’re my brother and sister?”

Both of them giggle and shriek protests at the very thought and Louis laughs along with them, tucking them each under one arm. This is his favourite part about being home, hands down. 

Harry watches the whole affair quietly, lovely and polite about the fact that two small children he’s never met have come and woken him up. “Hey loves,” he grins cheekily. “This is my boyfriend, Harry, and he loves cuddles. Do you want to give Harry a cuddle hello?”

Harry hurries to sit up just in time for two little bodies to crash into him and give him a big old cuddle and Louis is delighted at the way he welcomes them into his arms without question, scooping them up and into his lap like he’s known them for years. 

Seeing Harry with the twins makes something warm and happy settle in his stomach and it stays there for the rest of the day, a day filled with good food and lots of booze, games and presents. Having his birthday on Christmas Eve is always a bit annoying, but even without his mum around the tradition of today being more about him than anything too Christmassy remains strong. Sallie cooks them one of his favourite meals - homemade toad in the hole with lashings of gravy, and in the evening a few of his mates come round for more drinks and games. 

Christmas Day is always a hectic affair in the Tomlinson household and this year is no exception. Louis is thoroughly spoiled with presents from everyone, ranging from the most ridiculously expensive pair of trainers (Harry) to a framed drawing of him and a squirrel (Dottie and Ernie) that he promises to hang on the wall of their new flat. Lottie punches him in the stomach when he unwraps her present from him - he’d pulled some strings and got her some fantastic seats to see  _ Hamilton  _ \- but when Harry unwraps his main gift there’s some actual tears.

“What is this?” Harry asks, voice trembling. He gulps audibly as he opens the jewellery box and brings out the necklace with a shaky hand, where he holds it at eye level. “Bloody hell, Louis…”

“You like it?” Louis asks, suddenly inexplicably nervous. “It, um, it matches my tattoo.”

“I know,” Harry rasps, then launches himself forward and kisses Louis on the mouth, or at least he aims to. Louis catches him and moves their mouths together. “Jesus, Louis, this is…”

“So sappy it hurts my eyes,” Lottie says loudly, and everyone in the room laughs. “Sorry but it is. It’s cute though.”

Louis flips her off from behind Harry’s back so the little twins can’t see it and Harry shakes his head fondly. “Put it on me?” he murmurs.

Louis does so with trembling hands, fixing the necklace around Harry’s neck on the lowest clasp because he knows Harry likes to wear them fairly loosely. It hangs perfectly next to his cross charm and they both smile as his fingers come to toy with it for a second, then he drags Louis in for another thank you kiss.

“Best present ever,” he mumbles against Louis’s lips.”Now I have a piece of you with me wherever I go. I’m never taking it off.”

“It’s only a necklace,” Louis protests weakly, but he can’t hide how pleased he is that Harry’s pleased.

And Harry can’t talk anyway - he got Louis a shirt signed by the entire England football team, so if anyone has won at giving presents this Christmas, it’s him.

Despite Louis’s pounding head, they set off early on Boxing Day so they can spend as much time with Harry’s family as possible. It takes them a couple of hours in the car, the traffic a bit heavier than either of them expected, but they get there just before lunchtime.

Anne bounces out the front door the second Harry puts the car into park and he’s barely out the door before he’s being pulled into his mother’s arms. “My baby’s finally home,” she cries, rocking him from side to side in her arms. She’s not a short woman by any means, but Harry completely dwarfs her as he cuddles her back, tucking his face into her hair.

Louis takes his time getting out of the car, letting mother and son have their moment. He knows how much Harry’s missed his mum, but he doesn’t like to talk about it too much with Louis because he feels guilty doing so when his mother is realistically just a phone call away when Louis’s no longer is. Louis doesn’t mind it at all - it isn’t anything that can be helped, after all - but he still lets them have their moment, instead walking halfway up the drive and meeting Gemma there.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Anne shrills from behind them. She jogs up to them and pulls Louis into her arms before he’s even aware of what’s happening. “God, I can’t believe you’re finally here, my lovely Louis.”

“Hello,” Louis says awkwardly, hugging her back. He catches Harry’s eye over her shoulder and he’s laughing at him, the prick. “Lovely to meet you, Mrs Twist.”

She pulls back and stares at him, one eyebrow raised. “Mrs Twist? Bloody hell, am I old enough to be Mrs Twist?” She pats him on the cheek. “It’s Anne, darling, it’s absolutely Anne to you. You live with my son, I’m sure we can stretch to being on a first name basis.”

“ _ Mum, _ ” Harry hisses, coming up behind them. “Give him a second to breathe, Christ.”

“Sorry,” she says, not sounding sorry at all, taking a step back from him. “Sorry, I’m just…” She claps her hands together happily. “I’m so excited that you two are here, oh my goodness. I’ve been looking forward to this all month.”

“Shall we go inside?” Gemma says with a roll of her eyes. “It’s flipping freezing out here. Let's get the lads a cuppa and then we can do presents.”

Anne winds her arms through the crook of Louis’s elbow and guides him towards the front door. “Yes, you poor loves, you must be freezing. Are you a tea drinker or a coffee drinker?”

“I’ll get the bags then, shall I?” Harry calls, hands on hips, sounding amused. 

“Thank you, darling,” Anne responds, not turning around and offering an awkward wave with the hand that isn’t curled around Louis. “Come with me, Louis, I have so many pictures of young Harry on Christmas to show you before he tells me off for it. There’s one of him trying to shove a whole turkey leg into his mouth somewhere.”

Countless baby pictures and two cups of tea later, the three members of the Styles-Twist sit on the floor of the living room while Louis sits in the armchair behind them, watching them exchange their presents and have their Christmas morning. It’s quite nice and rather entertaining to be almost like a fly on the wall while Harry and Gemma unwrap their stockings like they’re children and not adults of twenty-five and twenty-nine, Anne’s smile bright and beaming all the way through.

Once presents have been opened, they sit down to another Christmas dinner that does wonders for Louis’s sore head. The conversation is a lot less awkward now they’ve warmed up and Louis doesn’t feel as shitty, and he ends up laughing so hard that he nearly spits out his wine when Anne does a near spot-on impression of Harry with a hangover.

In the afternoon, Harry and Gemma go upstairs to FaceTime their dad and grandma, so Louis sits in the kitchen with Anne for a bit, drinking hot chocolate and chatting one on one. 

“You have a lovely home,” Louis remarks with a smile and he means it. There’s pictures of family lining every wall and it feels like such a  _ home  _ that he can’t help but feel very much welcome here. “I love how you’ve kept so many pieces of Harry and Gemma in it, it feels so cozy.”

“I’d miss them too much if I didn’t have all these little bits around me,” Anne admits with a chuckle. “They’re both so far away from me a lot of the time and Harry, especially, is a bugger when it comes to visiting.”

Louis looks down into his lap. “I think… this year especially that might have had something to do with me. I’m so sorry.”

“Maybe,” Anne muses. She washes her hands in the sink and then moves over to take the seat next to him at the table. “But he’s also never called me as much before you and he’s also never been excited to keep me up to date on anything as he is with your relationship and all its milestones.”

Louis can’t say he’s surprised at that - Harry does spend a lot of time on the phone to his mother. “That’s… good?”

She covers his hand with hers. “Look, I just want to say to you, Louis, that I think it’s important for you to know that I’ve never seen my boy happier than he is right now. He’s had a funny couple of years, bless him, and he never really liked to tell me much about his relationship with Kendall because he knew as well as I did that it wasn’t good for him, but with you…” She gives his hand a squeeze. “He can’t stop talking about you, ever. He is so unbelievably proud of you and you make him the happiest he’s ever been. So as his mother, I have to thank you for that.”

Louis drops his gaze to his lap and bites his lip. “That… god, it means a lot to hear you say that,” he says after a pause. That’s a lot to take in, especially from Harry’s mother, and he takes a deep, careful breath before continuing. “Harry… I don’t know how much he’s told you but I also spent a few years in a very toxic relationship and I was so… I wasn’t scared about getting into a relationship with him, but I was terrified that I’d be too much hard work or whatever. But he’s been amazing to me, Anne. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, which I know sounds all dramatic and sappy, but it’s true.” He looks up and meets her gaze. “I love him very much and I hope you know I’m going to do everything in my power to make him happy for as long as he’ll have me.”

Anne sniffs and chuckles merrily. “I think he’ll have you for a very long time, Louis darling. I’ve never seen him so in love with anything or anyone.” She chuckles again. “He called you his soulmate after your first date, you know.”

Louis has to laugh. “I did know that actually. Did he ever tell you about the disaster of a date I took him on before I told him I loved him for the first time where he ate a prawn by mistake and then the waiter tipped a tray of drinks over me?”

“He did,” Anne laughs. “And he talked about it fondly. He loves you like crazy, dear. And that's everything I’ve ever wanted for him as a mother, you know?” She shrugs. “He has the biggest heart, does my Harry. He has so much love to give the world and I’m glad he’s found someone who has just as much love to give him back.”

“I love him so much,” Louis admits softly, perhaps in a way that’s too open and honest for his first time meeting his boyfriend’s mum, but he feels like she needs to know. 

Anne links their fingers together and brings his hand to her mouth, kissing over his knuckles. “I know,” she murmurs proudly, then pulls him into a hug. It’s almost enough to make Louis cry. Meeting Harry’s mum was definitely the thing he was most nervous about, and now he feels privately guilty for feeling that way at all. 

Harry and Gemma return not long after, while Anne and Louis are deep in a conversation about Anne’s favourite theatre shows and productions she’s seen recently. Turns out she’s a massive Lloyd Webber fan and promises Louis she’ll be there to see him in  _ Joseph,  _ programming her number into his phone so he can text her ticket availability. 

“Hi,” Harry murmurs, wrapping his arms around Louis from behind, nuzzling into his neck and kissing his jaw. “Are you and my mum best friends now?”

“Of course.” Louis spins in his barstool and turns so he can hold Harry properly, aware that Anne is in the room but not finding it in him to care  _ that  _ much, not when he’s just spent the last however long waxing lyrical about Harry to her. He thinks he’s earned a cuddle. “How’s your dad?”

“He’s good,” Harry nods, fingers playing with the hairs at the back of Louis’s neck. “Wants to meet you soon, if you want that.”

Louis bats him on the chest lightly. “Of course I want that. I want to meet all your family, fool.”

Harry grins and leans in for a proper hug, tucking his face into Louis’s neck, shuffling closer so he’s practically hanging off the bar stool. 

“What’s this for?” Louis laughs.

“Just missed you is all,” Harry mumbles shyly. “It’s weird, like, I’m with you all the time, obviously, but I’ve just talked you up to everyone for twenty minutes and I just missed you, no big deal.”

Louis catches Anne watching out of the corner of his eye and they share a private, understanding smile. He definitely knows that feeling. 

“Yeah, it’s been exhausting to listen to if I’m honest,” Gemma calls from the doorway. “Louis this and Louis that. You’d think he was borderline famous or something.”

Both Louis and Harry flip her off at the same time and they all dissolve into comfortable laughter. It doesn’t feel like this is only his first time in the Styles-Twist house at all. 

The rest of the evening passes in a happy blur of meeting Harry’s extended family, board games, a second Christmas dinner and lots of Bailey’s. Louis instantly feels like part of the family and his team (him, Gemma and Harry’s aunt and cousin) even win their annual Christmas quiz and he’s officially inducted into the Twist-Selley Hall of Fame with a group picture on Instagram. 

The day after Boxing Day, Harry takes Louis with him to the pub to meet all his hometown friends. 

They eat their third Christmas dinner of the week and Louis revels in all the embarrassing stories all his friends share without even being asked to, including Harry’s first kiss (“carved their initials into the tree up the field and promised each other they’d be together forever, how sweet”) to Harry being the first of their friends to pass out while drunk at a house party, so two of them drew a monobrow and curly moustache on him in permanent marker, so permanent it didn’t come off for several days. 

Seeing Harry at home in his small country village is a very special experience for Louis. Harry is such a big personality and the way he holds himself and dresses himself is so different to the small town he grew up in, but seeing him here just makes sense. While Louis does tease him relentlessly about being a posh boy, this Harry is more of a posh country bumpkin. 

Once everyone has finished their meal at the pub, Harry ends up taking him on a walk to said field with the big tree dressed in his Hunter wellies, Barbour jacket and a Burberry beanie. 

“You know, you’re not doing much to dispel the rumour that you are, in fact, a posh boy,” Louis says dryly. He’s dressed head to toe in Adidas, as per usual, and the wellies he’s had to borrow are way too big for him. 

“Hush,” Harry tells him with a pout. “I can’t help that these are my roots.”

“I know, darling,” Louis says sombrely. He curls his arm through Harry’s so they’re walking pressed together because he is absolutely fucking freezing. “Why are we on a walk again?”

“To show you where I grew up.” Harry flings his arm out and gestures wildly to the vast empty field they're in. “I spent a lot of my time up here as a teenager.”

“Oh really?” Louis pinches him on the bum. “Did you ever have sex up here?”

Harry pointedly doesn’t look at him. “I plead the fifth,” he says weakly, and Louis gasps. 

“You did!” He stops them from going any further and shoves Harry playfully. “You’re bringing me, your one and only, to the place you had a teenage romp? You filthy boy.”

Harry grins and charges forward, tackling him to the ground. Louis shrieks and tries to grab onto Harry for purchase but ends up on his back, winded. Harry scrabbles up and hovers over him, pinning his wrists above his head. 

“What the fuck, Harry?” Louis shouts, wriggling against his hold. It’s fucking  _ freezing  _ down on the ground and Harry is much stronger than him. “What are you doing?”

“Making new memories here,” Harry grins dopily. Louis fucking hates him, the cocky bastard. “Something to tell the kids when we walk across here with them. Remember that time I tackled you to the floor the first Christmas we spent here together because Daddy is a jealous little fucker, but look! We’re married now.”

“You are so fucking perculiar.” Louis blinks up at him, unsure of what to do with any of that information, but his heart is racing regardless. 

_ Harry wants to have kids with you _ . 

And then he  _ has _ to go and lower the tone. 

“You wanna have sex then?”

“Fuck no, it’s too cold.” Louis shivers to punctuate his point. “Can we go home and drink hot tea instead?”

“You’re no fun,” Harry says with a heavy sigh, but leans back on his haunches and offers Louis a hand to help him up. “The plan for memories to cherish forever doesn’t work as well if you won’t have sex with me.”

“You want to tell our kids that we had sex on this field?” Louis asks incredulously. “You’re  _ nasty.” _

Harry pulls a face and sighs again. “Okay, never mind.”

They spend the rest of the afternoon in Anne’s living room, drinking Eggnog and eating Quality Street. Dinner is leftover turkey sandwiches and yule log and they end up getting an early night, bellies full and hearts happy. 

They’re up bright and early the following morning to get on their way back to London, which feels like it’s happening all too soon. The drive home is kind of sombre and a little longer than Louis had anticipated - they did have to add a couple of hours extra to their journey to collect Lottie, after all - but getting back to London is a relief, even if Louis does feel like he could do with a few extra days with his family. But there really is no place like home, and when they step back through the doors of their little flat he finds himself breathing a sigh of relief, suddenly very ready for a night of Thai food on their sofa followed by a lovely sleep in their own bed in their two hundred-pound bedshets.

As they didn’t have the chance to have their housewarming party before Christmas, they opt to host a New Year’s party at their flat instead, inviting all of their close friends as well as their siblings to ring in the new year with them. 

Harry goes a _ little _ overboard on buying supplies for it, just a tad, and Louis wakes up one morning to the Tesco delivery man banging on his flat door, demanding to see some ID before he dropped off enough alcoholic beverages for them to turn their apartment into a speakeasy. 

“Did you really spend this much on booze?” Louis shrills as he reads over the delivery note with wild, wide eyes. “Can’t we just ask people to bring their own?”

“I think people will probably bring their own anyway,” Harry says with a shrug, unphased as he jots down another cocktail recipe from Buzzfeed. “But I think it’ll be cool to have, like, pitchers of cocktails, what do you think?”

“I think you’ve made your mind up,” Louis says cheekily, pecking Harry on the cheek. “This better be the best party you’ve ever hosted, Styles.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Harry sing-songs, shaking his head. Then he sighs. “Now do you think seven cocktails is too many or not enough?”

There is so much booze in their kitchen, Louis can’t help but think with a mix of pride and a bit of dread. Every available surface has either bottles of beer, wine or little tinnies covering it, then the central countertop has pitchers upon pitchers of cocktails that Harry’s made up for the night. Red plastic cups are stacked high and there’s a sign on the freezer that helpfully reads  _ ICE. _

“Just in case,” Harry had tittered when Louis had asked if that was really necessary. He looks ridiculously handsome tonight, dressed in a sheer black shirt with black and white striped trousers that look like they’ve come straight from the set of  _ Beetlejuice,  _ and Louis is so ready to kiss his stupid face at midnight. “Fuck, Louis, now I’m worried. Do you think we’ve got enough stuff?”

“I’m going to kick your bony little ass,” Louis hisses, whipping his leg with the tea towel. “Yes, Harry, we have enough stuff.”

“Jesus, lads, you got a license for all this shit?” Niall booms as he steps into the kitchen, eyes wide as he surveys the countertops. “How many people are coming again?”

“Like, thirty?”

“Okay, jeez, that’s good,” Niall says, pretending to mop the sweat from his brow. “If there was only, like, ten of us I’d be very concerned.”

Zayn and Liam arrive not long after Niall, followed by Lottie and Gemma, who have now become firm friends and keep spending time with one another without Harry or Louis being invited, which is both rude and awesome at the same time. Pretty soon their flat is full of all of their favourite people, all with full glasses. Music is blaring from Harry’s vast collection of speakers (the perks of dating a sound technician) and the mood is good, everybody ready to ring in the new year in high spirits.

“Shall we play a drinking game?” Perrie asks the room at large once everyone has arrived. 

“I have an idea,” Leigh-Anne says wickedly. “Why don’t we play Never Have I Ever again, like we did at the beginning of the year and see what Louis has to drink for now he’s been with Harry for six months?”

Both Louis’s and Harry’s eyes go wide and everyone bursts out laughing. “Um, how about no?” Louis says hotly, curling a defensive arm around Harry’s middle. “It’s our party and I’m saying no.”

They don’t end up playing Never Have I Ever - they play Flip Cup and Beer Pong until the kitchen floor is uncomfortably sticky, but Louis can’t bring himself to care. It’s New Year’s Eve, he’s had a lot of vodka, and he’s  _ happy.  _

It’s such a lovely night that Louis barely registers that it’s only a couple of minutes until midnight until Harry comes and finds him, dragging him into the corner and wrapping him in his arms. 

“Want to start the year with you,” he hums. “I mean, obviously I was going to kiss you at midnight but you know. Nice to have a couple of moments to ourselves first.”

“You were gonna kiss me at midnight, huh?” Louis winds his arms around Harry’s neck. “Really? You think I’m that type of girl, do you?”

“I do,” Harry grins, shaking his head. He’s tipsy, Louis can tell by the colour of his cheeks, but he’s not as drunk as some of the others in this room. “Thought I might take you to bed later and all, if you fancied.”

Louis pretends to think about it for a second. “Go on then. Don’t think I’ll get any better offers tonight, to be honest.”

Harry pouts and pinches him on the bum. “Don’t be rude or I’ll make you sleep on the balcony.”

“One minute!” someone behind them yells. 

“Are you ready to spend another year with me?” Harry asks, rocking Louis back and forth in his arms.

“Haven’t even spent a full year with you yet,” he points out, slightly disbelievingly. “Fucking hell. Harry. It’s not even been a year.”

“I know right,” Harry hums. “But this is going to be the first full year of Harry and Louis. In their flat. Together. Forever.”

“This flat, our flat,” Louis repeats happily. “Together. Living, laughing, loving…”

Harry throws his head back in his beautiful ugly laugh that Louis adores so much. It’s such an obnoxious sound that a few of the people around them look over and stare but Louis barely notices. 

“I live laugh love you so much,” Harry smirks against his lips, drawing him in closer, bringing a hand to the back of Louis’s neck so he can draw him in for a filthy kiss. 

“I live laugh love you too,” Louis murmurs. He moves to wrap both his arms around Harry’s neck so they’re as close as it’s possible to be outside of the bedroom. Every inch of Louis feels like it’s pressed against some bit of Harry and that’s exactly how Louis wants to start the new year. 

Somewhere behind them, the countdown begins. Louis has never been particularly big on tradition anyway so he leans up to kiss Harry early, so they’re mid-snog as the ball drops and everyone around them starts screaming  _ ‘Happy New Year!’ _

“Happy New Year, my darling,” Harry murmurs, barely pulling back from his lips before they’re kissing again. 

“Happy New Year, sweet boy,” Louis grins, pulling away so he can rest their foreheads together. “I love you so much.”

“I love you more,” Harry replies, his smile dazzling and dopey at the same time. “I can’t wait to spend this whole year with you.”

“I…” Louis is about to say something back but then he’s ripped backwards and out of Harry’s arms by Zayn and Liam, who pull him into their arms and smack kisses on his cheeks as he yelps. “Fucking hell!”

“We love you, Lou!” Zayn coos drunkenly, wrapping his arms around Louis’s shoulders. Liam wraps his arms around Louis’s waist and they squish him between the two of them, a best friend sandwich. “You think you could get away with not giving your two very best friends a kiss at midnight?”

“You didn’t even give me a chance,” Louis grumbles, but he resigns himself to the cuddle regardless, smacking a kiss on Zayn’s cheek, then Liam’s cheek. 

He’s spent every New Year’s Eve with the pair since he was eighteen and they always hug at midnight, regardless of what’s going on around them. They’ve spent New Year’s together in Dublin, Manchester, London and Paris, they’ve spent them in their local pubs and they’ve spent it at fancy parties, and there’s even the year when he couldn’t face going out because he’d had his heart broken that they spent holed up in his flat and just ordered a takeaway. 

Every year they’ve been together and Louis can’t imagine spending any single NYE for the rest of his life without them. He’s got Harry here with him, sure, but New Year’s Eve is his official holiday with Zayn and Liam and they all know it. 

“I love you both so much,” he says wetly, a little drunk and overwhelmed by how different the start of this year feels to the start of last year. Last year he felt completely hopeless, desperately single and not really sure where his life was going. He wasn’t quite at rock bottom anymore, but he wasn’t particularly happy either, but now he’s the happiest he’s ever been. 

They spend the rest of the night dancing, laughing and making out with Harry and this is absolutely the start to the year Louis needs - in the arms of the man he loves, his best friends surrounding him. This is absolutely how he intends to spend the rest of this year. 

It’s going to be a great year. 

*

Most of the time Louis thinks he’s quite good with money. He grew up in a household where money was tight and everything was carefully budgeted for. That mostly extended into his adult life - a few frivolous purchases here and there, of course - but he’s still a stickler for making sure he can save as much as possible. 

So when he drops the equivalent of a whole month’s salary on two plane tickets and a five star hotel in Jamaica on a whim, he has a bit of a panic.

For about ten minutes before he reasons that yes, he deserves to go and yes, it’s money well spent because he never goes on holiday and he wants to spend some time in the sun with his boy before they both go back to work.

Harry’s new job - at a recording studio that records and produces TV and film soundtracks - doesn’t start for another three weeks, but once he starts he’ll be working 37 hour weeks so Louis won’t see him nearly as often, especially when he jumps back into performing. This is going to be the last real chance they have to spend a long period of quality time together before  _ Joseph  _ starts (and ends) so they’ve got to make it count, right?

Predictably, Harry freaks out a bit when Louis tells him that evening.

“Have you gone completely insane?”

“Possibly,” Louis says. “But not for this. This is a terrific idea.”

“A terrifically expensive idea,” Harry hisses. “Jesus, Louis, I’m already in debt to you for the rent, how could you do this?”

A fair argument Louis should probably have anticipated but didn’t, but he counters it easily enough.

“I don’t care about the rent money and also that is not comparable to this. Rent is something we agreed to split. This holiday will have no splitting. I’m paying for the whole thing and you can fuck off if you think you’re giving me a penny.”

Harry blinks at him. “I therefore return to my earlier question where I ask again, have you gone completely insane?”

“Maybe I have,” Louis muses. “But I’m telling you Hazza, this is going to be great. This is a brilliant idea.”

“Are you sure?” Harry stands there, hands on hips, and glares at him. “You’re just gonna fucking pay for us to go to Jamaica.”

“Yes,” Louis says, shoving his thumb into his mouth and nervously nibbling on his nail. Does Harry really not want to go? Has he just wasted all that money?

“Louis,” Harry says, then sighs and takes him into his arms, kissing the top of his head. “God, okay. I don’t mean to sound like a prick, I really don’t. I’m so grateful, it’s just like… fuck, it’s so much money for you to just drop on me like this.”

“I know,” Louis mumbles, shaking his head. “And I know I can be a bit stupid with money at times but I wouldn’t be doing this if I couldn’t afford it. And I want to because I think we both deserve it.” He slides his warm hand under the back of Harry’s jumper. “You’re gonna be working the week before your birthday and you went all out for mine, so let’s call this your birthday present.” He blinks at him coyly, the picture of innocence. “I won’t even get you anything else, I promise.”

“I can’t believe you’re using the fucking birthday present card,” Harry grumbles. “Of course I can’t say no to you when you’re this fucking cute and you’re doing it for my birthday. Arsehole.”

Louis grins. “Is that a yes?”

“Was it ever really a no?” Harry rolls his eyes. “God. Jamaica. Fucking  _ Jamaica.  _ What’s wrong with Magaluf, for fucks sake?”

“Harry, I’m 27, I’m not going to fucking Magaluf.” Louis smacks him on the bum before coaxing him over to his laptop, where he pulls up the booking page to show him what the hotel is like. “Look, see? How perfect is this place?” He rolls his eyes again. “Fucking Magaluf.”

Harry holds up his hands before wrapping his arms around Louis’s shoulder. “I was just saying. I’m not sure when you turned into Jeff Bezos.”

“I got a good deal,” Louis protests. “Stop arguing with me or I’ll bring Liam with me.”

“Oh really?” Harry says dryly. “Was it such a good deal because we literally fly in three days' time?”

Louis flashes him a blinding smile. “Maybe?”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Harry says with a long suffering sigh, then kisses Louis,  _ hard.  _ “Unbelievable. God, I love you.”

Louis smirks against Harry’s lips and high-fives himself internally. He’s won this one. 

They touch down in Jamaica early on Monday morning. The first thing that Louis notices is that it’s roasting fucking hot and he’s definitely overdressed in his tracksuit bottoms and black t-shirt. The second thing he notices is that Harry has produced a fucking fedora and a pair of giant sunglasses from literally thin air and looks like the biggest tourist ever as he walks through the plane to the exit and walks down the steps. 

“You look insane,” Louis says helpfully as he clip-clops down the stairs behind him. “Where the hell did that hat even come from?”

Harry blinks at him. “Um, ASOS?”

“That’s not what… you know what? It doesn’t matter,” Louis groans. He’s already too warm to argue. “Let’s just get out of here so I can take a nap.”

“We’ve flown all the way to Jamaica and you want to take a nap five minutes after stepping off the plane?” Harry says incredulously. 

“Yes,” Louis tells him firmly, fumbling for his passport as they approach baggage claim. “Now come on, I’ve got a taxi booked.”

They rock up to the hotel about an hour later and they check themselves in. It’s not even noon yet so Louis doesn’t feel as bad about tumbling straight onto the bed once they get inside the room, fully intent on taking a nap before showering off their plane journey, getting dressed up in heat appropriate clothing and then taking Harry out to wine and dine him. 

Harry, however, has other plans apparently. 

“We’re all going on a summer holiday,” he sings at the top of his lungs, flinging open their balcony door. “No more working for a week or two.”

“Neither of us are working anyway,” Louis snaps at him. “Now shut the fuck up.”

Harry mooches over to the bed and rolls onto it, all ready to pull Louis into his arms, but Louis shoves him away. 

“Are you insane?” he balks. “It’s too warm for cuddles.”

“We’ve flown across the world to a five-star hotel and you won’t even let me cuddle you?” Harry pouts. “Fine, alright then. Guess I’ll go home then.”

“Don’t make stupid empty threats.” Louis cracks one eye open and glares at him. “Just put the air con on to the highest setting, take your pants off and come and lie next to me.”

“Wow, what a proposition,” Harry drawls, his words dripping his sarcasm. “I am the luckiest man in the whole world.”

But he does as he’s told and they do end up taking a nap together, on the same bed but not touching even a little bit. Despite the cranked-up air con, Louis still wakes up drenched in sweat, his poor English blood definitely not accustomed to heat like this. 

Harry’s still fast asleep next to him and a quick check of the time on his phone shows him it’s only half past 4, which means they have plenty of time to shower, unpack and get dressed before dinner begins at 7. 

He strips himself of his boxers and pads around the room naked, trying to remember which suitcase they packed their shampoo and body washes in. He ends up having to rifle through both to find it. When he turns around to head back to the en-suite he almost jumps when he sees Harry now awake, propped up on one arm as he smirks. 

“Can I help you?”

“Just admiring the view,” Harry hums, then very obviously moves his eyes down to look at a  _ certain _ part of Louis. “Continue, by all means.”

“You can touch the view, if you want.” Louis waggles his eyebrows. “Care to join me for a shower?”

Harry raises his own eyebrows. “I thought you didn’t want cuddles.”

Louis walks over to him and pats him on the cheek. “I didn’t want cuddles then. I do know. I also want shower sex now.” He takes a step back and does a twirl. “All I needed was the nap, see? And now I’m a new man ready to enjoy my holiday with my lovely boyfriend.”

Harry snorts. “Right, of course.” He stands up and follows Louis into the bathroom. “Tell me, are you being so nice to me now so I suck your cock in the shower?”

The shower in their en-suite is one of those ridiculously fancy ones with multiple heads and nozzles, so Louis flicks a random one on and stands under the spray, fluttering his eyelashes in that way he knows Harry can’t resist. “Maybe.”

At the end of the day, he knows Harry is only a red-blooded male, so he doesn’t really have to work hard for the shower sex. 

Two orgasms later, the pair dry off and pull boxers on to enjoy a beer from the mini fridge on the balcony. 

The view from their balcony is unreal - it’s sweeping beaches that border bright blue ocean water, towering mountains that look mystical and beautiful in the sunlight and the city to the left. It’s unlike anywhere Louis has ever been in his life and he takes a second to sit and just look. 

“It’s beautiful,” Harry murmurs lowly before he takes a swig of his beer. “Everything about here is incredible, isn’t it? The hotel, the scenery, the smells, the sounds…”

“It really is,” Louis agrees, wonder in his voice. The world is so big and it’s so easy to get used to places like London, that feel big when you’re living there but aren’t anything compared to this. This is perfection. He turns to Harry. “Makes you think how small little old England really is, doesn’t it?”

Harry nods. “Yep. And I feel like Jamaica is one of those places that I’ve always been interested in but never really thought about what it would be like, you know? But it’s more beautiful than I could ever have imagined.”

“And we’ve got nine whole days of fun here,” Louis says gleefully. “Nine days to drink, relax, sightsee…” He smiles over to his boyfriend. “You happy, baby?”

“Never been happier,” Harry hums, reaching for Louis’s hand across the table and lacing their fingers together. “Let’s get drunk and fuck like teenagers tonight, yeah? Then we’ll be hungover and have no choice but to lie around on the beach tomorrow. How does that sound?”

“I like the way you think,” Louis grins, already cracking open another beer. 

After an hour or so, they head inside and get dressed into their dinner attire - a white shirt and fresh denim shorts for Louis, while Harry dons a yellow shirt with a 60s-style flower print and tiny round sunglasses even though they’re inside. They walk hand in hand down to the reception, taking in the madness that is their hotel as they go. 

It’s a five-star hotel so everything about it is grand and luxurious, from the foyer to the dining area to the bar they're led to beforehand as supper isn’t served until 7pm. All the walls are just floor to ceiling windows with obnoxiously large chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The bar area is packed full of people sitting on expensive velvet upholstery, their tables glass and their drink glasses crystal. It’s pure luxury down to the finest details and Louis can’t help but feel a touch out of place in a place like this, even though he’s paid for holiday all himself. 

All meals and drinks are included in their package deal, so Louis wastes no time in ordering them a bottle of Moët, ready to absolutely get his money’s worth from this visit. 

He’s still a working class lad at heart, after all. 

“Cheers, my sweet boy,” he says coyly, lifting his glass for Harry to clink his against. “Here’s to a sweet of sun, sex, sea and sweat, probably.”

“You have such a way with words,” Harry chuckles, then hooks their ankles together under the table. 

It’s the perfect holiday in every way. The sun is warm, the water is cool, the hotel is gorgeous and luxurious and as long as they stay within the resort the drinks are free, so it really is tropical paradise. They spend each day either by the beach or by the pool, drinking all-inclusive cocktails, reading, chatting or sunbathing. It’s utterly relaxing and it’s everything Louis knew he needed from a holiday, and he suspects Harry did too. 

Harry has brought the  _ most ridiculous  _ pair of tiny yellow swim shorts that Louis has ever seen in his entire life. They leave very little to the imagination, barely covering his bum, and they get even shorter when he runs which is  _ a lot  _ on their first day at the beach, when he joins in with a game of beach volleyball that seems to go on for hours. 

Louis is very glad he has two books in his beach bag, one that he can pretend to read and one he can strategically place over him so nobody can see how much he truly appreciates those shorts. 

They spend a couple of days exploring Kingston, eating fresh local delicacies at small restaurants that Harry’s handy little guidebook recommends. They venture into the shopping district and buy lots of trinkets and souvenirs for their friends and family back home, and Harry finds himself in his element when it comes to their fashion, spending a small fortune on handmade shirts in the most ridiculous patterns that would look insane if anyone else tried to wear them. 

It’s pure paradise and Louis never wants to leave. He wants to keep this relaxed, soft version of Harry forever, in his garish patterned shirts and his stupid fucking fedora and his suburban dad flip flops. It’s his favourite version of Harry to be around, and even though objectively it  _ is _ too hot for cuddles, now he’s no longer as jetlagged he can’t get enough of them. 

It’s also a little bit ridiculous, really, how much sex they end up having. 

They wake each other up with slick mouths and wandering hands, spending hours touching each other, holding each other, kissing, sucking, biting, taking and giving. They go to sleep in orgasm hazes, exhausted and sore but in the best of ways. 

Then they wake up again in each other’s arms and do it all again. 

They had all this free time in London, sure, but there’s something different about doing it in a hotel bed where they know they have nothing else to do but make love and be in love. And that’s exactly what they do. 

All Louis wants to do is be with Harry in whatever way Harry will have him.

And if any further proof was required that Harry is definitely the love of his life, it’s solidified for Louis again when he realises that the cuddle he gets after sex is just as important as the sex itself. 

There’s one night where Harry’s made him come three times and he’s  _ exhausted _ , but Harry’s still inside him, using his tired little body to fuck into as he chases his own orgasm. Louis is wrapped around him like a spider monkey, Harry’s strong arms keeping them anchored together as his thrusts get sloppier and sloppier.

Afterwards, when there’s jizz soaking the sheets and Harry licks him out, coaxing orgasm number four out him, Harry bundles him under his arms and holds him there firmly. 

“I don’t care if you don’t want to cuddle, I do,” he grunts. “And I think I've earned it after making you come like that.”

Louis doesn’t have any energy to argue, but he doesn’t even  _ want to  _ just to be a shit, and he finds that he’s not resistant to the idea of the cuddle either. If it was anyone else he would push them away, feeling sticky and gross and suffocated, but he doesn’t feel that way with Harry. He’s never felt that way with Harry. 

_ I want this for the rest of my life.  _

There’s another night where they’ve just finished a very decadent dinner of steak and expensive red wine and they decide to head down to the beach again, watching the sunset while they lie pressed together. Harry’s back is pressed against Louis’s chest, firm and warm, their fingers laced together around Harry’s middle. 

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Harry hums, nosing against Louis’s cheek. They’re both a little tipsy from all the wine, cheeks rosy and flushed. “Honestly I can’t thank you enough for this, Lou. I’m gonna remember coming here for the rest of my life.”

“Me too.” Louis tilts Harry’s face towards him so he can press a kiss onto his soft lips, just a press. “I can’t believe we’re in Jamaica. What a beautiful holiday to take with my beautiful man.”

Harry giggles and kisses him again, several quick presses of lips that have Louis’s head spinning. “I love you.”

“Love you,” Louis mumbles back, leaning back so Harry can rest his head against his chest. Comfortable silence stretches across them - they’re two of the only people left on the beach as the sun disappears from view and right here, right now, Louis thinks he’s the most content he’s ever been. 

And maybe it’s the wine talking, or maybe it’s because he really truly means it, that he breaks the silence and blurts out what he’s been thinking about this entire trip. 

“I’m gonna marry you, you know.”

He feels Harry tense in his arms and he worries for a terrifying second that that was too much, but then Harry lifts his head and stares up at Louis with shiny eyes and a smile that makes his heart melt. 

“Yeah?” Harry says, almost shyly. Louis cups his face and nods, bringing their lips together in a hurried kiss. 

“Absolutely,” he mumbles against Harry’s lips. “If you’ll have me, of course.”

“Of course I bloody will.” Harry moves back and shakes his head before slamming it back to Louis’s, licking into his mouth with fervour. Both of them are smiling so the kiss doesn’t last that long, but when they pull back they don’t separate, keeping their heads pressed close and their hands on one another. 

“I love you so much,” Louis tells him, and the way Harry’s smile seems to get even brighter makes him feel all warm. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“You’re gonna make me bloody cry,” Harry grumbles, but there’s no real warning behind it. “But I love you too. More than anything.”

Louis rests his head on Harry’s shoulder and shuffles into him, pressing their bodies as close together as he can. He never feels like he’s close enough to Harry. 

“You still mad I brought you here?”

Harry chuckles. “Was I ever really that mad?”

Louis kisses his forehead and giggles. “Listen, I’m just checking. Can’t have you hating the place if I end up bringing here for a proposal, can I?”

“You know, it’s like you want me to get hard in public,” Harry says cheekily. 

“I think you’d quite like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Maybe,” Harry grins. “Maybe not here in a country where being gay isn’t exactly celebrated, but it’s something to think about for when we’re next in Hyde Park, you know?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “We are not having sex in Hyde Park.”

“Boring,” Harry says with a shake of his head. “I think you should at least be open to the idea.”

“Shut up,” Louis tells him, pulling his arms tighter around him. “How have we gone from talking about marriage to sex in Hyde Park? Can’t you just admire the view like a normal person?”

Harry tuts. “As beautiful as this view is…” He leans into Louis to whisper in his ear. “I think the view I get of your arse when I bend you over on our bed might be one I favour more.”

Louis moans against Harry’s mouth as they share another filthy kiss. “Yeah?” he says breathily, licking his lips. He obviously knew sex was on the cards tonight but suddenly he wants nothing more than to be underneath his boyfriend, wrapped in his arms as Harry makes love to him, the view be damned. 

“Yeah,” Harry echoes, then leans forward to lick at the spot on Louis’s neck that makes him weak. It’s almost alarming, Louis thinks, how Harry can go from so sappy to so coy and cocky in just a few minutes. “Shall we go back to the room?”

“Yes please.” Louis nearly topples over in his haste to jump to his feet and pull Harry up with him. 

They rush back to the hotel hand in hand, giggling and stealing kisses as they cross the resort. 

They have to use extreme self control not to snog in the crowded lift, but Louis catches a glance of their reflections in the mirrored wall and almost laughs out loud because given how dishevelled they both look, it’s very clear what they plan on doing when they get back to their room. 

When they finally get back to their floor and room, Louis chucks the key onto the table and kicks the door shut, moving straight back into Harry’s waiting arms, kissing him with fire. They giggle against each other’s lips as they topple onto the bed, clothes flying in all directions as their hands move across their bodies, touching, cherishing, holding. 

The amount they’ve been fucking this week means Louis doesn’t need a huge amount of prep but Harry takes his time anyway because he’s always one to be overcautious but he also loves to wind Louis up. And that’s exactly what he’s doing right now. 

“Better safe than sorry,” he tells Louis breezily, too breezy for a bloke who is naked, hard, and three fingers deep in his boyfriend’s arse. He crooks his fingers forward and any protests from Louis die on his lips as pleasure spikes through him. “God, baby. Such a good boy for me.”

“Harry,” Louis whimpers loudly, thrashing around in the sheets as Harry finds his spot again. “Harry, I swear to god.”

Harry presses a kiss to his knee before pushing his legs wider apart, shuffling forward so he can get ready to push inside. “You ready?” he asks Louis, gaze piercing, but Louis shakes his head. 

“Fuck that,” he harrumph, pressing a hand against Harry’s chest and pushing him back. Harry is physically considerably stronger than him so he could easily overpower him, but he goes back as instructed, biting his lip and groaning as Louis moves to straddle him, facing away so his arse is all Harry can see. 

“You want a view, I’ll give you a view.”

Harry groans loudly, hands gripping Louis’s cheeks and pulling them apart. His thumb rubs over Louis’s rim, dipping inside ever so slightly as Louis gets himself into position on his knees. “Best view ever.”

“You flatter me,” Louis says with a breathy laugh, which turns into a whine as Harry helps to guide the tip of his cock into Louis’s waiting hole. “ _ Fuck.” _

“You good, baby?” Harry grunts, hands gripping his arse, keeping his cheeks spread so he can sink down more easily. “Fuck, shit, so tight…”

“I’m always tight, you don’t need to remind me…  _ oh,”  _ Louis squeaks as he takes more than he was ready for. “Oh my god, oh my god.”

“Take a second, take a second,” Harry coaxes, voice strained as Louis pauses, one hand in the sheets and the other digging into Harry’s thigh. “Fuck, baby, is this good? Me filling you up like this?”

“So much,” Louis slurs, his voice all high and breathy as he inches down carefully, moaning again as Harry’s big fingers rub at his stretched rim. “So full,  _ Harry.” _

“Maybe this is the most beautiful view I’ve ever seen,” Harry says reverently, groaning as Louis sinks down a further couple of inches without warning. “Baby, shit.”

A high, breathy moan leaves Louis as he finds himself fully seated at last, and he wastes no time as he lifts himself back up and fucks back down, taking a couple of moments to find his rhythm before he starts to ride Harry properly. Harry’s hands come to sit on his hips, strong and steadying, and he covers one with his own hand, the other on Harry’s thigh for balance. 

“ _ Baby,” _ Harry moans again as Louis picks up the pace, swivelling his hips in a bid to locate his spot. “Baby, god, you’re made for this. Made for my cock,  _ fuck.” _

And then Louis moans as he fucks down at the perfect angle, crying out as pleasure shoots through his bones. “Right there,” he murmurs out loud, not sure if he’s telling himself or Harry at this point. “Yeah, yeah, uh…”

His hips start to pick up speed now that he’s found his sweet spot and he starts to ride Harry with more finesse, ignoring his own cock in favour of bouncing harder on Harry’s dick, taking him deeper. The sound of skin slapping skin feels the room, little desperate moans leaving Louis’s mouth on every up thrust, and this is  _ fantastic  _ but it’s not enough because Harry doesn’t have the leverage to fuck his hips up and help him find his spot at this angle. He needs more, more, more. 

His knees are trembling as he takes a second to stop, reluctantly lifting himself off of Harry’s cock for a second so he can turn around, pulling Harry up so he’s more seated and kissing him with fire. “Missed your stupid face,” he mumbles against his lips, and Harry grins. “Now put it back in me.”

Harry grips his cock and feeds it back into Louis’s puckered hole, barely giving him time to adjust to it before he starts to fuck him in earnest. Louis tucks himself closer to Harry, clinging to his shoulders for balance, as Harry drives his hips into him, bouncing Louis almost roughly up and down his dick as they chase their pleasures. 

His orgasm takes him by surprise - he comes untouched with a sharp wail of Harry’s name, shooting streaks of white over the butterfly on Harry’s stomach. He groans softly, slumping forward ever so slightly, and kisses the corner of Harry’s mouth. “Keep going.”

“Yeah?” Harry asks and Louis nods, wrapping his arms tighter around Harry’s shoulders so he can use his hole as he needs. 

He makes quick work of rolling them over so Louis is on his back, throwing his legs up to his shoulders so he can thrust quickly and sloppily into Louis’s tight little body, before he starts coming everywhere. He pulls out with a low grunt and Louis whines at the loss, and Harry paints the lower half of Louis’s sweaty body with jizz, white ribbons streaking over his thighs, cheeks and hole. 

“Fuck, if that’s not the hottest sight of all time,” Harry breathes out, awed, as Louis clenches his hole greedily, taking whatever cum he can inside his hole still. “Your arse is…”

“My arse is sore,” Louis finishes for him. “And my arms are empty. Get down here right now, Styles.”

“You’re annoying,” Harry huffs, but he does as he’s told. He shuffles up and rolls Louis into his arms, pressing a long kiss into his damp, sweaty hair. “But you’re gorgeous so I forgive you.”

“I don’t know if I forgive you for literally pounding into me so hard that I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk tomorrow,” Louis grumbles, but he isn’t that good at hiding the fact he’s smiling as he says it. He should be stripped of all his acting awards, honestly. Harry hums and kisses him again. 

“Yes, because we’ve got such strenuous things to do this week,” he tuts. “How on earth will we take it easy?”

Louis flicks him on the nose. “I thought you wanted to do that mountain walking tour in the morning, jerk. Should have thought about that before you pounded my fucking brains out.”

He rolls over so he can look at Harry properly. Harry’s face is so close to his that he ends up going cross-eyed for a second, which only serves to make Harry giggle more. “I love hearing you talk about sex,” he hums against Louis’s lips. 

“I know you do, you insatiable bastard,” Louis mumbles, but they both know Louis likes it too. The fact that he barely realises he’s doing it is such a big step for him and he’s proud of himself for it. But as always, he has to deflect the serious talk with some humour. “I love having it with you even more.”

“Good,” Harry says, then kisses Louis in between the eyes before he peels himself out of bed and towards the bathroom, much to Louis’s loud chagrin. “I’m getting a flannel, you flannel.”

Louis pouts as he lies there alone, but he knows he won’t be alone for long. He hears the tap run and then Harry returns with the warm rag, making a show of running it over his belly before he turns his attention to Louis. He wipes his bum, thighs and stomach with slow, tender movements, and Louis can’t help it when he moves to tug Harry back up his body so he can kiss him languidly. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Harry sighs against his lips. Louis can feel his smile. “And we’re gonna get married one day. To each other. Married.”

“Slow down, big boy.” Louis pats his cheek. “Don’t go booking any venues just yet.” He grins. “But I think it’s a safe bet that we will, don’t you?”

“I do,” Harry mumbles, smile equally as bright. “So like, hypothetically, what kind of venue would you want then?”

They end up talking about their hypothetical wedding for hours, until the moon is high in the sky and both of them are struggling to keep their eyes open. 

Harry kisses Louis on the nose before he rolls over and settles against the pillows, always the little spoon even in a bed that isn’t theirs. Louis snuggles closer to him, interlocking their fingers over Harry’s chest and kissing the back of his neck before he falls asleep easily, lulled under by the soft, familiar sound of Harry’s breathing. 

He’s gonna  _ marry _ him one day. 

*

Harry’s new job starts on a Thursday in late January. He’s jumpy with nervous energy all through the week leading up to it, and not even Louis’s attempted distractions of dinners out, a night watching  _ Dear Evan Hansen  _ and multiple impromptu blow jobs seem to be helping. 

He’s finally working in a recording studio like he’s always wanted, playing and editing the backing sounds and tracks for TV shows. It’s literally his perfect role and Louis couldn’t be prouder, which is why he can’t quite wrap his head around why he’s so miserable and nervous the week before he starts. 

“You’re gonna love it,” Louis tells him for the thousandth time over breakfast on Tuesday. Like the good boyfriend he is, he’s up early with Harry every day this week. Distractions are a full time job now, apparently. “It’s an absolutely perfect job for you, sweetheart, you have literally nothing to worry about.”

“I know,” Harry grunts. He’s already nibbling at his bottom lip and he’s barely taken a sip of his coffee yet. Louis moves into him and gently pulls it out, then wipes his hand on Harry’s jumper dramatically, which does coax a smile out of him. “Urgh. I’m being a flop, aren't I?” 

“No,” Louis says as he winds his arms around Harry’s middle. “Well, maybe. But you’re my flop.”

Harry snorts. “Cute.” He kisses the top of Louis’s head. “Thank you for being here even if you think I’m a flop.”

“Any time,” Louis says breezily. “Now finish your coffee so I can cheer you up properly.”

“How are you going to cheer me up prop…  _ oh.” _

Louis waggles his eyebrows and then laughs as Harry chugs his coffee and drags him back towards their bedroom. 

Wednesday morning is another morning of moping, but in a very Louis-style manner. Louis’s known Harry for eight months and every morning he’s woken up bright and early, and he’s not one for lying in bed unless Louis badgers him to, promising him sex and cuddles. Otherwise the lad is out of bed for the day - off on a morning run, making breakfast, being generally more productive than Louis has even been any morning of his life. 

So when Louis wakes up on Wednesday morning to an empty bed, he’s not surprised at all. He checks his phone and sees it’s coming up to 10 o’clock, which is a pretty standard night’s sleep for him, so he gets out of bed in search of his boyfriend. 

What he is surprised to see is Harry on the sofa swaddled in a blanket, two empty mugs on the coffee table. He has a half-eaten bag of crisps in his lap and when Louis walks in the room he looks up at him guiltily, like a child who’s been caught with his hand in the biscuit tin. 

“Morning,” Louis says, strolling over to Harry and joining him under the blanket like this is perfectly normal. “Sleep well, did you?”

“No,” Harry grumbles. “Crisp?”

Louis snorts. “You never eat crisps, love. And you’re never this…” He gestures vaguely at the scene in front of him. “For lack of a better word, slobby?”

“Fuck off,” Harry whines, burying his face in Louis’s shoulder. “I’m feeling sorry for myself.”

“I can see that,” Louis tuts, but cuddles him in. “Talk to me, sunshine. A problem shared is a problem halved and all that. What’s eating you?”

Harry huffs into Louis’s shoulder. “I just… I hate the idea of starting a new job and possibly hating it, you know?”

Louis frowns. “You’re worried you’re going to hate it?”

“I dunno,” Harry mumbles, shrugging. “I’ve never, like, loved any of my jobs so my expectations aren’t very high, I suppose.”

“They should be high for this one because it sounds fucking fantastic,” Louis reassures him. “Less hours, more money, evening work as well so we can keep our schedules lined up at least a bit.”

Harry sighs and tucks the blanket up to his chin. He looks more and more like a child with every passing second. “I wish you were there to hold my hand.”

Louis snorts. “That would not look very professional, my little darling.” He slides his hand into Harry’s anyway. “We were definitely more than spoiled when we worked on the same production though. It’s gonna be weird.”

“I know,” Harry moans, then tucks his head under Louis’s chin. “Which is why we should get loads of cuddling and sex and stuff in right now, don’t you think?”

Louis barks a laugh. “Cuddling and sex and stuff? What’s the stuff?”

Harry kisses him in lieu of a proper reply and suddenly Louis isn’t too worried about not knowing what the  _ stuff _ was. 

All teasing of his boyfriend aside, on his first day Louis gets up with Harry and makes him breakfast - banana and nutella on toast - packs him a lunch and sends him on his way with a sweet kiss and the promise that there'll be plenty of wine in the house for his return. He’s jittery with nerves, not because he doesn’t think Harry will excel, but because  _ Harry _ is so nervous. He’s been around him at work enough to know how professional and passionate he is, but he can’t help but worry that  _ something _ will fuck it up. He couldn’t bear it if anything like another Peter situation were to happen again. 

But Harry comes home in high spirits, waltzing into the flat at just after 6pm with a great big smile on his face. 

“How was it, sunshine?” Louis calls from the kitchen, already boiling the kettle for a cup of tea. 

“It was… well.” Harry hangs his coat up and joins him, wrapping his arms around Louis’s middle and pressing a kiss to his cheek. His nose and lips are cold and Louis hisses. “Sorry, yeah, it’s fucking freezing out there, but anyway.” He smiles and kisses Louis again. “I think it went well?”

Louis hands Harry his mug. “You think?”

Harry shrugs, sheepish. “I think… I think I’m really gonna like it there, Lou.”

Louis beams. “Really? Oh my god, Harry. That’s incredible.”

Harry nods. “So I’m working with these two partners, Mitch and Sarah, and we’re gonna be a team of three that works on the instrumental side of everything. They seem so cool, super open to any ideas I had today and happy to have a third member of the team so it’s not just them doing all the work, you know?”

“Baby, that’s amazing,” Louis sing-songs. “Is it just the two of them you’re gonna be working with then?” 

Harry nods and sips his tea at the same time. “For now, yeah. When we do, like, actual recordings for shows and bands and stuff there’ll be a bigger team, but for now there’s Mitch who’s a wicked guitarist, Sarah who’s sick on drums and me who can do a little bit of everything.”

“You can do more than a little bit of everything, Mr. I Taught Myself How To Play Six Instruments.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Yes, but I’m really nowhere near as good on the guitar as Mitch. It’s a bit insane really, how talented he is.”

“Alright, why don’t you go and marry him then?” Louis tuts sarcastically. 

Harry snorts. “When I told you they’re partners, I mean in work and also in life. Like, they’re married.”

Louis blinks at him, schooling his face to keep it nice and neutral and not like that’s relieving to hear. He’s really working at keeping his stupid irrational jealousies at bay, he really is. 

“Plus they’ve all offered to take me out for a birthday slash happy end of your first full week drinks next Friday. Do you want to come?”

“And show you up like an embarrassing weirdo boyfriend who intrudes on his boyfriend’s new job’s welcome drinks?” Louis raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, alright.”

“Jealous little idiot,” Harry tuts before he kisses him soundly. 

Louis smiles into the kiss happily. Regardless of anything else, he’s happy that Harry sounds happy and enthusiastic about it after just one day. His enthusiasm is definitely one of the things that Louis loves most about him. 

And anyway, he has nothing to worry about - in terms of nice things for Harry’s birthday, he’s got it fucking  _ covered.  _

For Harry’s actual birthday, Louis wakes him up with a blow job and a badly homebaked cake. It’s a Saturday so neither of them are at work, so they spend the morning sharing a lazy bath with Harry’s favourite Lush bath bomb and Louis cuddled into his chest. Afterwards, Harry basically throws Louis back onto the unmade bed and eats him out until he’s nearly crying, then jerks off into his open, waiting mouth. 

“Best birthday morning ever,” he grunts as he topples forward onto the bed, using a finger to scoop up the jizz that didn’t quite make it into Louis’s mouth and feed it to him. “That’s definitely the type of birthday breakfast I could get used to.”

Louis slaps him in the stomach. “Oi,” he tuts, “You ungrateful sod. I baked you a fucking cake.”

“Which was delicious,” Harry insists, though they both know he’s lying. The cake had been lumpy, slightly burnt and kind of oily, but Harry had dutifully eaten it anyway. Louis can only hope and pray he doesn’t get sick from it. He’d thrown his own slice in the bin. “But your arse is hands down my favourite thing to eat and it’s great because it’s like the never-ending meal.”

“You’re literally so weird,” Louis tells him but kisses his square on the mouth anyway. Maybe that’s a little gross given where his mouth has just been, but Louis couldn’t care less. It’s his boy’s birthday and he’s going to make the biggest deal out of it possible. 

For breakfast, Louis orders them a real breakfast of bacon sandwiches, hot cinnamon buns and Harry’s favourite coffee from a local bakery that’s now blissfully on Uber Eats and they eat it on the sofa while  _ The Notebook,  _ Harry’s favourite film, plays on their telly. Once they’ve finished eating the pair dress and get ready to head out because Louis surprised Harry with tickets for the matinee of  _ The Play That Goes Wrong _ , so they jump on the Tube and head into London’s city centre. 

The show is predictably hilarious and has the pair of them in stitches all the way through, and once they get out of there they’re still giggling about one particular slapstick scene that Louis thinks might be one of the greatest pieces of theatre he’s ever seen. 

“That was fucking fantastic,” Harry says, folding their hands together as they leave the theatre. “That was probably the best show I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh yeah? Better than the show in which your boyfriend played the lead?” Louis teases. 

“No, obviously not,” Harry tuts. Louis can practically hear his eye roll. “But I worked on that and saw it, like, sixty times so it wasn’t the same.”

“I’m joking, love,” Louis tells him, leading him towards one of the busier shopping streets in London. “And now for your next present, so no more pouting.”

Harry perks right up. Louis is so glad he seems to have forgotten the promise he made not to get him any more presents before they went on holiday. “Another present?”

“Yep,” Louis grins, then leads Harry towards the Gucci store with glee. Harry’s mouth drops open. 

“Louis,” he croaks, “Louis, are you joking me?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Louis pinches Harry’s hip and nudges him inside. “Were you joking when you left my laptop open on the page for these chelsea boots?”

“ _ Louis _ .” Harry looks scandalised. “You can’t buy me the chelsea boots.” He looks an adorable mix of conflicted but excited. “Are you really buying me the chelsea boots?”

“I mean, I want you to try them on first before I drop a mortgage payment on a pair of shoes that might not fit, but yes, I’m really buying you the boots.”

Harry looks a little dazed the whole time they’re in the shop and Louis is so fucking endeared he considers transferring money out of his savings to buy him a shirt as well. In the end, Harry settles on the boots (thank goodness Louis brought him in because the shoe size he originally planned to purchase were too small) and he chucks a black ring with the Gucci logo engraved into it into the purchase as well, because he’s a sap and Harry looks like he wants to cry and jump for joy at the same time. 

When they leave, Harry grabs Louis and kisses him in the middle of the street like they’re in some kind of romcom movie. Louis squeaks into it and then lets himself be kissed, and they only pull apart when someone wolf-whistles behind them obnoxiously. Their lips smack loudly and Louis giggles and grins. “Having a good birthday, are we?”

“I don’t know, because I think I’m having a dream where my boyfriend took me to see a show it’s near impossible to get tickets for and then spent a month’s wages on the boots I’ve wanted for like five years,” Harry says dopily. “So maybe I’m not actually awake for my birthday, I dunno.”

“Loser,” Louis snorts, bringing their linked hands up to his mouth so he can kiss Harry’s knuckles. “Come on, we’re not done.”

“Louis,” Harry whines adorably, but he follows, clutching the Gucci bag in his hand like it might be taken from him at any moment. “You said you wouldn’t make a fuss.”

“Did I?” Louis pretends to think, grinning like a cat. They walk a little further into the tourist district, which isn’t where they’d usually go but there’s a lovely little bistro bar around here that they both just love, where they do great cocktails and delicious burritos and some of the best chips Louis has ever eaten. 

“Are we going where I think we’re going?”

“Maybe,” Louis hums coyly, then stops them as they arrive outside the place. “Okay, yes. And I know you asked me not to make a fuss on your birthday and I know I ignored that, but.” He bounces up on his tiptoes and gives Harry a quick kiss before he takes the Gucci bag and opens the door. “It doesn’t mean this lot can’t make a fuss.”

“What lot?” Harry frowns, confused, then his eyes light up when he sees that all their friends are gathered at a table inside, calling out “Surprise!” as they walk through the door. “Oh my  _ god.” _

“Come here, birthday boy,” Niall cries, pulling him into a tight squeeze. “Look at you, my boy is all grown up.”

Louis hears Harry snort and thanks him before he moves into a joint cuddle from Zayn and Liam, who press several hard kisses onto his cheeks. Hailee and the babies are there too, both of them graciously asleep a twin buggy, and behind her is Gemma and her boyfriend Michal, then Leigh-Anne and Perrie and Jade and Jesy, whom they haven’t seen since New Year’s Eve. 

It’s glorious to watch Harry light up around their friends. 

And as Niall shoves cake in Harry’s face and his boyfriend sputters and coughs and then shoves an even bigger piece of cake in Niall’s face, Louis dares to think about their wedding day, where he can very easily picture a similar scene playing out - all his favourite people at one table, eating cake and laughing together. 

It’s a very warming, very exciting thought indeed. 

*

Andrew Lloyd Webber does not do shows by halves. 

Louis could have guessed this - he is essentially the king of musical theatre, after all - but it still shocks him when he gets an invitation through the post for a black tie event celebrating the new cast of  _ Joseph.  _

“A black tie event?” he shrills to Harry, who’s making a coffee for himself and just looks amused by the whole thing. “A bloody black tie event just to celebrate the cast? Is this even real?”

“You’re kind of a big deal, baby,” Harry says with a snort. “Hate to be the one to break it to you but you are.”

“But, like, I don’t own a tux,” Louis says dumbly. “I’m not that level of fancy. I barely own shoes that aren’t trainers.”

Harry claps his hands together with excitement. “Oh my god, does this mean we get to go shopping?”

“No,” Louis says flatly. “Please god no.”

Harry levels him with a look, a look that Louis knows well by now, and he sighs. 

“I’ll get my shoes, shall I?”

Four hours and four hundred pounds later, Louis has a tuxedo, a waistcoat, a pair of cufflinks and a rainbow pocket square, and even though he’s reluctant to admit it he does look bloody good in them. Harry calls him a fuckable delight in them so he takes that as the highest compliment and suddenly the price tag doesn’t feel like so much of a sting anymore. 

On the night of the party he spends the best part of the day getting ready, wondering if he’s putting in roughly the same effort that Lottie would for an event like this. He shaves with extra care, applies two of Harry’s face masks, one after the other, and takes a two hour long bath before moisturing his entire body and slathering himself in aftershave. 

“Andrew Lloyd Webber is a lucky man,” Harry says dryly from the corner of their bedroom, where he’s changing his earrings over to different ones. “I don’t get this much preparation for a date.”

Louis levels him with a look as he starts to button up his shirt. “Forgive me for saying so, my darling, but you’re not a multi-millionaire who has the chance to propel my entire career to the next level with just a couple of emails.” He shrugs. “I still love you though.”

“Charming,” Harry snorts. “Do you think he’ll tell you how tight your arse looks in those sinful trousers?”

“I should hope not,” Louis says, carefully tucking his shirt into said trousers. “Can you chuck me the bow tie?”

“I can’t believe you didn’t own a suit or a bow tie,” Harry says, still in disbelief. “Don’t you do fancy premieres for shows normally?”

“Not for stage shows, unless it’s something massive, like  _ Harry Potter and the Cursed Child,”  _ Louis explains. “I’ve sure as shit never been invited to an event like this.” He frowns as he takes the bow tie out of its bag. “Oh god, why did I buy this? I can’t tie a bow tie.”

“You can’t?” Harry raises his eyebrows. “I can, come here.”

“Well, of course  _ you  _ can, you sodding hipster.”

“Did  _ you _ never have a bow ties and suspenders phase in your teens?”

“Suspenders, yes,” Louis admits. “Bow ties, no. Like I’m gay but I’m not  _ that  _ gay.”

“I respectfully disagree,” Harry chuckles. “Anyway, here you go.” He takes a step back and Louis moves his fingers to the bow tie, leaning past Harry to look at himself in the mirror. Of course it’s fastened perfectly. 

“Thank you, my love.” He takes a couple more seconds to look at his reflection again. His hair is perfectly styled, his skin clear for the first time in ages with just the hint of scruff lining his cheeks and jaw (mostly because Harry likes it). His bow tie is fastened, his shoes and shiny, and he feels a million dollars. 

Harry also looks deliciously dapper in that gloriously ridiculous way he always does. Objectively his outfit should look absolutely mental, and probably would on anyone else, but the maroon suit over a white and lavender shirt and purple vest with a pearl necklace hanging around his neck just  _ works.  _ His nails are painted a deep maroon to match and there’s two plain silver hoops in his ears today. He looks like… well, he looks like he should be the star and not Louis. 

“How do you do it?” Louis asks him, bewildered, apropos of nothing. Harry frowns. 

“How do I do what?”

“How the fuck is it fair that you have the face that you do and the body that you do, but you can also wear outfits that nobody else on this planet would be able to wear?” Louis shakes his head. “I didn’t even own dress shoes before today. Are you sure you want to go out with me still?”

“Huh?” Harry blinks at him like he’s gone insane. Maybe he has. “You know I’m, like, disgustingly in love with you and don’t care how you dress, right?”

“You should,” Louis grumbles, fighting the urge to pull Harry into a hug because he doesn’t want to crease either of their suits. “But you’re wasted on me, wasted I tell you.”

Harry snorts and rolls his eyes. “Louis, we’re literally going to a black tie event in your honour.”

“Whatever, you’re wrong and oh… is that the car here for us?” Louis blinks innocently. “Guess I’ve won this argument, thanks.”

“You’re literally so weird,” Harry says with a sigh, but he follows Louis out the door obediently. 

It’s about a 45 minute car drive to their destination but they don’t speak much, just idle chit chat about how nervous Louis is and why he shouldn’t be when he’s the greatest actor the West End has ever seen, which is definitely untrue but it does make Louis feel a little bit better. 

The party is being held at a concert hall in the Cotswolds, near the Lloyd Webber estate. There’s a few other groups entering the building as their car pulls up outside but Louis doesn’t know anyone by name yet. He’s had the confirmed cast list sent to him but there weren’t any names on there he recognises, so everyone in there (bar Andrew Lloyd Webber) will be a stranger to him. 

“I feel sick,” he announces to Harry as the car rolls to a standstill. “I can’t walk in there and pretend I’m a real actor.”

“Um, honey, you  _ are  _ a real actor?” Harry says, eyebrows raised. “And when you’re an actor you don’t pretend to be an actor, you…”

“Don’t fucking mansplain acting to me, idiot,” Louis hisses. He takes a couple of exaggerated deep breaths, just like he would if he were doing his vocal warm ups. “Fucking… just hold my hand, yeah? Don’t let go of my hand while we’re in there or I’ll chop your dick off.”

“I’m so lucky to have you,” Harry coos sarcastically, opening the car door and striding round to open Louis’s side. He holds out his hand for him to take dramatically. “M’lady.”

“Fuck you.” Louis knows he’s being a shit but he’s  _ nervous.  _ He looks up at the building in front of them and blinks a few times, just to make sure he isn’t dreaming. 

Things like this don’t happen to blokes like him. 

“Come on, baby,” Harry says, gently tugging on his hand and coaxing him forward. “Let’s go inside.”

“Oh my god,” Louis breathes out as they walk towards the steps hand in hand, heading up them and through the grand main entrance. Music is blaring through the speakers and there’s a flurry of activity around them - waiters and waitresses handing out flutes of champagne and decadent-looking canapés on big silver platters and there’s a lady in skyscraper heels waving a clipboard around as she checks the guests in. 

“Louis Tomlinson and my guest Harry Styles,” he says with his best charming smile to her once they’ve reached the front. His hand is definitely sweating in Harry’s. 

She barely looks up from her clipboard as she gestures them in. “Thank you for coming,” she says in a monotone voice. “Please help yourself to champagne and canapies.”

“We sure will,” Harry says with a grin, letting Louis lead him through into the main chamber. The music gets even louder and the lights get even brighter and they’re immediately handed two glasses of champagne that Louis thinks probably costs more than their rent. “Oh my god, baby, this is insane.”

“Tell me about it,” Louis says, feeling really rather shell-shocked. This is without a doubt the most lavish showbiz party he’s ever been to. “I can’t believe this is even happening.”

“Oh my goodness, Harry?” a voice behind them says. “What are you doing here?”

“Derek?” Harry looks delighted as he turns around, his eyes lighting up when he realises who’s spoken. “Oh my god, as if you’re here. How are you?” He pulls the man into a quick, enthusiastic hug. “Oh gosh, sorry. Louis, this is Derek. Derek was one of my uni lecturers in Sound Tech.” Louis shakes Derek’s hand. “Derek, this is Louis, my lovely boyfriend who is also going to be Joseph.”

“No way!” Derek has a bright, fatherly smile that instantly makes Louis warm to him. “That’s amazing, congrats son.”

“Thank you,” Louis says hoarsely. He’s still rubbish when it comes to receiving congratulations from anyone, whether that be a stranger or Harry. “Lovely to meet you too.”

“Let’s catch up?” Derek says, tilting his head to one side so they’re not standing right in the path of the entrance. 

Before Louis can follow him he’s being directed over to none other than Andrew Lloyd Webber himself, stood near his wife, Madeleine, and one of his personal assistants, someone Louis vaguely recognises from his audition. 

“Hello, Louis,” greets Andrew Lloyd Webber, taking his hand and shaking it warmly. He isn’t a very tall man but he’s a very charismatic, powerful man, so even just the handshake makes Louis’s head spin a bit. “Lovely to see you here with everyone, lovely. How was your journey here?”

“Absolutely fine, thank you,” he replies, trying to keep his voice level. “Thank you ever so much for the invite here. This is an incredible venue.”

“One of my personal favourites,” Lord Lloyd Webber hums enthusiastically. “I always love to put on a fantastic celebration for you all before the hard work begins.” He takes a sip of his own champagne. “Have you met any of your brothers yet?”

“Not yet,” Louis says. “And my boyfriend has also just been whisked away by somebody he used to work with, so you found me at a good time for me to make friends.”

Lord Lloyd Webber chuckles. “Well, let me introduce you to Benjamin here. Ironically enough, he isn’t playing Benjamin, but he is playing Reuben.”

Louis turns and spots another bloke coming up behind them, also guided by one of the staff. “Hi there,” he says, polite and awkward at the same time, reaching out his hand for this Benjamin bloke to shake. “Nice to meet you, I’m Louis.”

Benjamin grins at him, but Louis can still see the nerves behind his features. He’s pretty sure he’s got the same expression on his face right now. “Hi Louis, how are you doing?”

Andrew Lloyd Webber shakes Benjamin’s hand as he had Louis’s, then waves the two boys off so they can get to know each other better. They both stand awkwardly facing each other, taking slow sips of their drinks, before Louis clears his throat. 

“These parties are always so awkward, aren’t they?”

“Tell me about it,” Benjamin replies, sounding relieved that Louis actually said something. “It’s a nice thing to do but it’s just so awkward when you don’t know anyone.” He snorts. “Though I suppose it’s not as bad as those awkward ice breaker games you sometimes have to play on the first day of rehearsals, you know?”

They end up chatting for a good while, until Benjamin excuses himself after about half an hour to use the facilities and find his girlfriend. Louis takes the flute of champagne offered to him and drains a good third of the glass before he starts to walk over to where he’s spotted Harry - who isn’t hard to locate, thankfully - talking away to a group of people that Louis feels he should know but doesn’t. 

“And who are you here with, son?” Louis hears an older gentleman ask. 

“With my boyfriend,” Harry tells them. He sounds very formal, very professional and Louis hopes he’s not feeling awkward about any of this. “He’s an actor.”

“Ooh, one we might have heard of?” a lady Louis doesn’t recognise asks. She’s got a very big diamond ring on her finger and she’s wearing a dress that probably costs more than his and Harry’s rent for the year. “Has he been in anything recently?”

“Well,” Harry says, and Louis should really have seen the mischief flash across his face, but it’s too late. “He was in me a couple of days ago.”

“Oh,” the woman balks, and Louis nearly face palms then and there. Anything formal and professional about the situation just went out the window. “I… oh, I see.”

“And he’s also been in The Book of Mormon and Mamma Mia!,” Harry rushes out, eyes wide as he realises how badly he’s misread the room. “He’s about to be Joseph, you know, in Joseph. The show we’re here to celebrate. Sorry.”

Louis decides to intervene before this can get any worse. He sidles up to Harry and slides his arm through his, pressing a quick kiss to his flaming red cheek. “Hi, darling.” He then extends his free hand out for the lady to take. “Louis Tomlinson, lovely to meet you.”

“The boyfriend?” the lady questions as she takes his hand, like Louis isn’t half wrapped around Harry now. “Lovely to meet you too, what a pleasure.”

“Likewise,” Louis says with a nod. He really has no idea who this woman is. “I see my lovely Harry was charming you over here. Telling you all good things about me I hope.”

The lady’s cheeks redden as she nods. “Oh, indeed.” She takes her husband’s arm. “I’m Lisa, I’m one of the board members for the LW Theatre companies. This is Tim, my husband.”

“What a pleasure,” Louis says, his smile full of charm. “Do you mind if I borrow Harry for a moment? His sister just called to tell me the  _ good news _ .”

Lisa looks delighted. “Oh, of course. That’s wonderful. We’ll leave you to it.”

“Thank you,” Louis chirps before he leads Harry away to a corner of the room, hand firm on the small of his back. “Baby…”

“I am so fucking sorry,” Harry moans, sounding mortified. “I had no idea she was a board member, for fucks sake. I’m so sorry.”

“Baby, don’t worry,” Louis giggles. “I thought it was funny, but I could tell you didn’t, so I thought I’d come and rescue you.”

Harry furrows his brows. “So what did Gemma call to say? What’s the good news?”

Louis giggles. Harry really is a bit thick sometimes. “She didn’t. I was rescuing you, like I said.” He puffs his chest up. “I’m just a very good actor, darling.”

Harry tuts and hands Louis his nearly empty glass so he can bury his head in his hands. “Fuck my life.”

“I’d rather you fuck me,” Louis says, waggling his eyebrows, which only serves to make him groan louder. 

“On that note, I’m going to get another drink, I think,” Harry says with a sigh. “Do you want one?”

“Please,” Louis nods. He sets their empty glasses on the table behind him. “Don’t be long, alright?”

Harry kisses him on the cheek and disappears into the throng of people. Louis sort of zones out watching him go, but he’s almost instantly snapped out of his thoughts by a familiar face approaching him, making him jump. 

“Hello, Louis, isn’t it?”

“Um, hi?” Louis turns and then blinks, then his eyes go wide. “Oh my god, it’s you.”

“It’s me,” Carrie Hope Fletcher says with a gorgeous giggle. “Lovely to meet you properly, oh my god.”

“But you know who I am,” Louis says, hoping he doesn’t look as dumb as he sounds. “Why do you know who I am?”

“Because you’re brilliant, babe,” she says, taking a sip of her drink. “I came to see  _ The Book of Mormon  _ twice. You were outstanding as Elder Price.”

Louis feels like his jaw just hit the floor. “Um… thank you? You’ve seen me perform? Like, for real?”

“Yes, for real,” she nods. “And I think you’ll find we may be seeing more of each other soon?”

“Really?” That takes Louis by surprise. “But I don’t remember seeing your name on the cast sheet. I would have remembered seeing your name on the cast sheet.”

“Would you believe me if I told you my name was only added to the cast sheet yesterday?” she says gleefully. “I’m going to be the Narrator now, how mad is that?”

“Wait, hold on a sec. I’m playing Joseph opposite Carrie Hope Fletcher as Narrator,” Louis breathes out. “Oh my god, but…” He gapes at her. “You’re, like, famous as hell.”

She throws her head back in a gorgeous laugh. “I’m not that famous, but thank you.” She grins. “It was a friend of mine actually, Rebecca, who was meant to be playing the narrator, but she’s just found out she’s pregnant so wouldn’t be able to fulfil the role for as long as needed, so Andrew called me.”

“Andrew,” Louis says dumbly. “As if you’re on first name terms.”

She giggles again. “I guess so? I dunno, I guess if you’re on his payroll for long enough you can call him Andrew. I’m sure you’ll be calling him Andrew by the end of this show.”

In the corner of the room, someone taps a glass, signalling everyone to take their seats. Louis cranes over his shoulder to try and spot Harry in the crowd but then he feels a hand on the small of his back. 

“Hi, love.”

“Hello,” Harry murmurs in his ear before reaching past him and offering a hand for Carrie to shake. “Harry Styles, boyfriend to this one. Lovely to meet you.”

“Hi Harry, I’m Carrie,” Carrie giggles. Her laugh is truly infectious because it makes Louis chuckle too. “I’m playing Narrator and I think…” She takes a couple of steps back and glances at the table guide that's pinned to the board behind them. “I believe we’re all on the same table for supper.”

It’s a very enjoyable evening by all accounts - Andrew Lloyd Webber himself stands and does a speech about how excited he is for this show to come back and how he thinks this may be the very best cast ever, which makes Louis’s chest puff up a little with pride. 

Their starters and main courses are rich and delicious, the wine flowing freely and the conversation full of laughs and banter. As well as Carrie and her partner, they’re sat on the same table as some of the guys playing Joseph’s brothers, all of whom seem lovely and a great laugh so far. Louis and Carrie spend most of the evening chattering together, bonding over their shared love for musicals and craft beer. He never thought he’d say this, but he has a strong feeling the two of them will be firm friends by the end of the run. 

Him and Carrie Hope Fletcher, on their way to becoming best pals. Who’d have thought it?

It feels like nothing in the world could bring Louis down from this high. 

And then Louis sees him. 

In the corner, dressed in a dinner jacket and holding a clipboard, stands Henry - exactly the person he didn’t want to see tonight, or ever again, quite frankly. Louis’s blood runs cold.

He looks older, his hairline receding just a bit and his beard thicker than it was when he was with Louis. He looks very smart and professional, clearly very in the zone as he directs servers and bar staff around. It’s a Henry that Louis rarely saw because he never took his job too seriously, which was definitely a factor in them drifting towards the end. 

Four years he was in a relationship with that man and looking at him now he realises he hasn’t missed him one bit. 

It’s a weird thing to watch, like he’s looking into his past, and for whatever reason he finds himself unable to look away. So transfixed is he that he barely registers Harry talking to him, only snapping out of the trance he’s in when Harry squeezes the top of his arm. 

“Do you want another glass of- Louis? You okay?”

He swallows thickly, unsure of what to say. He’s got to tell him though. “That’s, um. That’s Henry over there, in the corner with the clipboard,” he croaks out. He slides his hand into the back pocket of Harry’s trousers, both possessive and comforting all at once, and he turns himself into Harry so their chests are touching.

“Oh,” Harry says loudly, his face going from merry and relaxed to angry and defensive in a split second. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Louis can’t seem to find his voice properly. He isn’t even sure what he’s feeling, whether he’s scared or apprehensive or angry or all of the above. He isn’t sure what Harry’s feeling either. “You okay?”

“You’re asking me if I’m okay?” Harry asks incredulously. “I’m absolutely fucking fine, Louis, how the fuck are you?”

“Oh my god, Harry.” Harry looks thunderous and he curls an arm around Louis like Louis’s at risk of being taken from him. “It’s fine baby, it’s…”

“It’s not fucking fine,” Harry growls. “He…”

“Really?” Louis cuts him off. “Because a couple of seconds ago you were absolutely  _ fucking  _ fine.”

“I hate him,” Harry hisses. “I didn’t know it was possible to hate someone this much, but I fucking do.”

Louis places his hand against Harry’s chest and gently pushes him back so they’re not pressed as close - even though he initiated the contact, Harry is gripping him like he’s about to leave for war and they’re in public. “Breathe, love,” he coaxes, taking a step forward so Harry is forced to sit back in his chair. “Here, let’s have some more wine and not talk about it anymore, yeah?”

“But he…”

“But he’s nothing.” Louis sits in his own chair and takes both of Harry’s hands in his, kissing the knuckles on both hands softly. God, he’s so fucking glad they’re the only two left at the table. “I don’t care about him. He’s nothing anymore. Not to be that dick but I’m the star of the performance this party is to celebrate, and he’s in the corner rearranging bruschetta on a plate.” He licks his lips. “It’s okay.”

He isn’t sure if he’s trying to convince himself or Harry at this point. 

They manage to get most of the way through their dessert before he even notices them. He’s talking to a lady a couple of tables over, laughing in that over the top way he always used to when he was placating a customer who was complaining (not that Louis’s still watching him), when he looks up at just the wrong time and their eyes meet 

_ Fuck.  _

“Oh god,” Louis mumbles. He squeezes Harry’s knee so hard Harry nearly spills his wine. “Harry.  _ Harry.  _ He’s seen me.”

“What?” Harry hisses, eyes moving around the room until they land on Henry, who looks like he’s rapidly trying to wind down the conversation with this woman. “Oh, shit.”

“Oh my god, oh my god,” Louis flaps. His eyes are wide and he’s twitching in his seat, unsure of whether he wants to grab Harry’s hand and flee the scene or stay and give Henry a piece of his mind. He feels restless and panicked and  _ sick.  _

It’s been two years. It’s been two years and he’s playing the role of his dreams and he’s in a relationship with an angel that makes the four years he spent with Henry look like a joke, so he shouldn’t feel like this. 

He shouldn’t and yet he does. And he doesn’t know what to do. 

“Do you want to leave?” Harry murmurs in his ear, like he can hear Louis’s inner monologue having a battle with itself. Louis shakes his head but regrets it a second later when Henry starts heading over to their table. 

“Oh my god, here he comes.” Louis can’t believe this is happening. “Oh my god, I want to leave. No, we can’t leave.  _ Harry. _ ”

Harry takes his hand on the table and gives it a squeeze, then curls his free arm around the back of Louis’s chair possessively. “I’m here, Lou,” he says lowly. His eyes are already fixed on him, glaring. “If he fucking says one word out of line I swear to god…”

“Louis?”

Louis clears his throat and composes himself before he finally locks eyes with Henry. He hasn’t seen his face for nearly three years and it already feels too soon to be seeing it again. His grip on Harry’s hand tightens. 

“Hi, Henry.”

“I thought it was you,” Henry says softly, smiling. Louis doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just doesn’t speak. Luckily for him Henry keeps talking so he doesn’t have to. “Um, how are you?”

“Good,” he replies, trying to keep his voice neutral. God, what is  _ wrong  _ with him? “I’m really good, thanks. How’s things with you?”

“Good, yeah.” Henry gestures around the room. “I run my own catering company now, which is pretty cool.”

“Cool,” Louis echoes, nodding. “I, um…” He’s quite literally lost for words right now. Like, what are you meant to say to your toxic ex-boyfriend who punched you in the face then never spoke to you again?

So, for lack of anything else to say, he blurts, “This is Harry.”

He watches as Henry’s eyes flit from their linked hands on the table to the arm around the back of the chair to the way Louis’s body is curled slightly towards Harry’s and he nods, just once. “Hi, mate, nice to meet you.”

“I’m not your mate,” Harry says darkly, his voice so deep and steely that Louis’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “I’m anything but your mate,  _ mate.” _

Henry lets out a shocked laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Ah, I see. You, um, you know what happened between us then.”

“It’s been mentioned,” Harry says, in a tone that makes it clear that there’s no room for Henry to carry on. Henry just nods, his eyes dropping to the floor before they flit back to Louis. 

“Hey, um, so I think we should get a coffee sometime so we can talk.”

Louis opens his mouth, unsure of what his own answer is about to be, but Harry beats him to it. “Coffee?” he sneers. “Louis’s never drunk coffee a day in his life. Or was that little fact something you didn’t pick up on in your four years together?”

“It’s more a form of expression though, isn’t it?” Henry fires back, eyes hard and angry. “You don’t have to answer for him, you know, and you don’t have to go all caveman on me.”

“Sorry, I can’t help it,” Harry says, unabashed. His voice is so low, bordering on a growl. “I’m just quite protective of what I love, you know, looking out for Lou and making sure he doesn’t get hurt.” He looks Henry up and down. “Not sure you’d know anything about that, though.”

Louis isn’t sure if he wants to burst into tears or jump his bones. 

The fact that he’s been so bold with it seems to take Henry aback too and he balks. “I…”

Harry continues to stare at him and Louis doesn’t know what to do or say, whether he should cut in or what he’d even cut in with. After a few seconds of the two of them just staring each other down, Harry speaks up again. 

“I think you should apologise to Louis for what you did.”

Louis lets out an audible squeak. He was  _ not expecting _ that. 

And judging by his reaction, neither was Henry. 

“Excuse me?” he says coldly. 

“You heard me,” Harry repeats, his eyes never leaving him. “I want you to apologise to Louis.” His grip on Louis’s fingers is almost impossibly tight and he’s shaking a bit. “You don’t need to take him out for a coffee to apologise for your behaviour.”

“Look, mate, I hardly think now is the time or the place for me to have to do that.”

“Why not?” Harry challenges. Louis’s never seen this side of him before - he’s cold, calm and collected and he’s saying everything to Henry that Louis himself has always wanted to but always worried he’d chicken out of actually saying. “To be honest,  _ mate,  _ I think the fact that you’re challenging me on whether the setting of the apology is appropriate rather than just being a fucking man and apologising for hitting your ex-boyfriend says a lot, don’t you think?”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Henry snarls, then looks to Louis, eyes like fire. Louis hates the way he automatically curls his body closer to Harry’s, like he’s still scared of him. “Lou, come on, tell him. I shouldn’t have to do it here.”

“Clearly Louis doesn’t want to speak with you, prick. Which is why Louis won’t be meeting you for a coffee, he’s very busy this week,” Harry drawls. He moves his arm from around Louis’s chair to around his shoulders, holding him impossibly closer, definitely too close for this kind of public setting. “He’s got shows all week; did you know he’s playing Joseph at the Palladium now? I’m so proud of him for it.”

“Congratulations,” Henry says haughtily, then his demeanour softens. “I… I remember that was the role you always wanted.”

“Yeah, it’s a dream come true,” Louis says, and then, in a fit of confidence he never saw himself having when it came to talking to Henry again, he says, “Look Henry, as much as I want an apology, I no longer feel like I need one from you. I’m much happier now and I don’t want to do anything with you ever again.” He brings Harry’s hand up to his mouth and kisses the knuckles. “So no, I don’t want to get coffee with you.”

Henry’s features turn hard. “That’s not fair, Lou. I fucked up once and you’re the one that kicked me out. I think you should at least hear what I have to say.”

That’s fucking rich. 

“And you’re the one who didn’t try and get in contact with me ever again, so fuck off,” Louis replies haughtily. 

“You never reached out to me either,” Henry counters, hands on hips. “And you’re the one who shacked up with someone else before even trying to repair what we had.”

“Why would I want to reach out to the man who…” Louis can’t even finish his sentence. “Man, you really aren’t sorry, are you? It’s been two years and it’s still my problem.”

“Of course I’m…” Henry’s eyes are wide and manic. “Of course I’m fucking sorry for what I did,” he says in a stage-whisper. “But you’re the one who kicked me out and didn’t want my forgiveness anyway. You didn’t fight for me.”

“You didn’t fight for me,” Louis spits back. “And that did a real number on me, so you can’t stand there and act like you’re the victim here when you literally physically…”

“Okay,” Henry hisses, cutting him off. He looks angry and terrified in equal measure and then Louis remembers that this event is being catered by his company. This argument must look extremely unprofessional and god forbid one of his staff members overhear what a prick their boss is. “Okay, Louis, you win, alright?” He laughs humorlessly. “You always fucking win.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You wanna know something? Life has been so much better without you.” He rests a hand on Harry’s chest, pulling them closer together. “And Harry’s ten times the boyfriend you ever were.” He reaches forward and takes a hefty swig of his wine, and then says, “And his dick is bigger.”

“Oh, fuck the both of you,” Henry snaps, then turns on his heel and storms out of there, slamming the door to the kitchens behind him as he goes. Louis lasts about three seconds before he crashes into Harry’s chest, trembling with a mix of adrenaline and rage, and Harry bundles him close and kisses the top of his head again and again. 

They don’t speak for a few minutes and Louis is glad for that, even though they’re in a massive room full of people and they probably look a right sight and Louis suddenly wants nothing more than to be at home, in his safe space where Henry can’t find him. He hopes Harry understands cutting their evening short. 

“Haz,” he croaks, pulling back but keeping his hands on Harry’s arms. “Haz, I’m sorry because I know you wanted to stay tonight and go out after this, but I…”

“Can I kiss you?” Harry cuts him off, moving to cup Louis’s face. Louis blinks at him. “I just… god, Louis, you’re so…”

Louis moves in and it’s not at all dignified when their lips meet, but Louis kisses Harry like he’s just returned from war and can’t bear to be apart from him ever again. He practically throws himself into his arms and Harry grips his shoulders possessively,

When they pull apart Harry cups Louis’s face in his hands and stares at him. “Do you want to go now?” 

Louis bites his lip and nods. He hates how small he feels at this moment, but he can’t stay here. He has to leave for his own self-preservation. 

The sense of guilt he feels as he gathers up his things and they collect their coats from the cloakroom is overwhelming and when Harry slides an arm around his middle as they wait for their Uber, tears prick at his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he croaks again, willing himself not to cry here and now. “I don’t… god, Harry, I’m so sorry.”

“What on earth for?” Harry moves to stand in front of him, cupping his face in his big hands. Louis forces his eyes closed so he doesn’t cry. He won’t cry. He  _ will not cry.  _ “Louis. Baby?”

“I’m gonna cry,” Louis sniffs, still not opening his eyes. His voice cracks on the last word. “Please, Haz, I don’t…”

“Honey, come here.” Harry pulls him in for a cuddle, tight with his face pressed into his chest. “It’s okay, I have you, it’s okay.”

Their Uber pulls up seconds later and they break their embrace reluctantly so they can both pile into it. They don’t talk for the journey but instead of taking the far seat Louis finds himself sat in the middle so Harry can keep him close, a hand in his hair and lips pressed onto his forehead, murmuring nothings that make Louis wonder why on earth he’s feeling like this when he’s got Harry by his side. 

Why on earth is he about to cry over a man who clearly doesn’t give a shit about him, maybe never did, when he’s got Harry here beside him, holding him and kissing him and loving him in the best way?

Once they get back into their flat the door is barely closed before Louis crumbles. Tears start pouring down in his face and he barely has time to cover his eyes before Harry’s there, wrapping him up and carrying him carefully over to the sofa, where he lets himself be held and cuddled and cooed at for as long as it takes for him to get it all out.

Everything he didn’t know he was feeling, he’d  _ been  _ feeling for two years of not seeing him and then the four years before that just comes pouring out. He cries for the fact that he didn’t get the apology he’s been so desperate for, regardless of what he’d said to Henry’s face, The fact that he hadn’t seen him for two years meant that he could always assume he’d get an apology if he did ever see Henry again, but now he feels an assumption that had got him through a lot of the heartbreak was unfounded and that  _ hurts. _

He cries for the fact that, even after all this time, Henry doesn’t seem to care that his actions reset the course of Louis’s life, that even though it may very well have been a one-time thing and could never have happened again, it still seems like his fault somehow for making Henry leave.

He cries for the fact that Harry had to meet him, had to come face to face with the bastard that turned Louis into a different person, that his past and his present had to cross paths when he never, ever wanted Harry to see that side of him. That side of him is a part of his past and Harry is his future, and for Harry to have to see that, to feel the need to be so protective and get so angry, hurts his heart.

He cries for the fact that he’s had the conversation he’d have with Henry in his head thousands and thousands of times but there’s still so much he wanted to say, and he doesn’t know if the fact he didn’t get to say it all is a good thing or a bad thing.

He cries for the fact that his mother died not knowing how happy he’d end up and that the two most important people in his life will never get to meet.

He cries even harder when he tries to rationalise why he’s even crying at all when he’s got Harry here.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers, shaking his head weakly. God, he hasn’t even taken off his coat yet, didn’t get the chance before he started to cry. “I’m so sorry, Haz.”

“Please stop apologising,” Harry tells him gently, stroking his hair out his eyes. “I don’t know quite what you’re apologising for.”

“I… I don’t know,” Louis flounders, desperately rubbing at his eyes. “God, I just don’t know.”

Harry uncurls his arms from around Louis and moves away from him for a second, and Louis whimpers again at the loss. But then Harry gets down in front of him, crouching on the floor where he takes Louis’s wrists in his hands and carefully pulls his hands away from his eyes. Louis doesn’t realise how hard he’s shaking until Harry carefully moves his hands up so their hands clasp together, then he takes deliberate, deep breaths for Louis to mimic.

In and out, he breathes. In and out.

“Louis.” Harry says his name, slowly, carefully. “Good boy, darling, keep breathing for me.”

Louis does. He focuses on the warmth of Harry’s hands, the way the deep breaths he’s taking sound the same as when he’s sleeping next to Louis, the way his voice is Louis’s favourite sound in the world. After a few minutes more, he feels considerably calmer and able to open his eyes, so he does.

Harry looks at him with the beautiful, soft smile that Louis loves so much. “Good boy,” he murmurs. “Good boy.”

“Thank you,” Louis says, his already raspy voice coming out raspier than ever. “I guess I should say thank you over  _ I’m sorry _ again.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” Harry moves up to pull Louis back into an embrace. “Nothing at all.”

“Can I just…” Louis buries his face in Harry’s shoulder and takes a couple of moments more, where he just lets himself come back to earth, come back to  _ Harry _ . “I feel like I need to explain this.” He gestures vaguely. “Why I just… did that.”

“Okay,” Harry nods, moving back to he and Louis can sit opposite each other, both cross-legged and facing each other on the sofa. They keep holding hands between them as Louis licks his lips, just trying to find the words without it all coming out as one big jumbled mess of thoughts.

“I adore you,” is what he starts with, because that’s the truest thing he can ever say. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything or anyone and I think it’s important for me to say that first because if you ever for one second there thought I was crying about seeing my ex because I missed him, that’s absolutely not true.”

“I adore you too,” Harry tells him, squeezing his hands. “And I didn’t think that at all. You looked… god, Louis, the way you went from being so happy back there to being, like, borderline terrified?  _ Fuck,  _ I hated that _. _ ”

“I know,” Louis says. He takes a deep breath. “I hated it too. I hated the fact that I had kind of never thought I’d run into him again but had prepared myself, like, I’d practiced that conversation in my head I don’t even know how many times just in case. But I literally didn’t think I’d react like this. I didn’t think I’d come away from that conversation and have a literal breakdown.”

“That’s okay that you did though,” Harry reassures. “It wasn’t easy for me to be part of that conversation and that was the first time I’d met the guy.”

“I think…” Louis sniffs. “I think the reason I just cried like I did is because it’s something I never saw happening and I didn’t get a chance to. And then suddenly it was happening and you were there and then it was over and it turns out he’s still a real bastard and it’s just… it’s very overwhelming, but I finally got to tell him I think he’s a bastard and I’m not going to ever apologise for ending things the way I did. And I couldn’t be more thankful that I ended things with him because if I’d lived my life and not had you in it… well. I don’t think that’s a life worth living.”

“Your life is phenomenal with or without me in it,” Harry tells him firmly. “You’re incredible and you’re brilliant, smart, funny, talented as shit and the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.” Then he smirks. “But I am fucking delighted I’m in your life. Now I’m here, I’m not leaving any time soon.”

“Good.” Louis can’t stop smiling. “God, good.” He quickly wipes at his eyes because everything is a lot tonight and he’s worried now that too much from Harry being generally wonderful and supportive will set him off again. 

Harry shuffles forward just a bit, reaching his hand forward and gently, ever so gently, reaching forward to brush a finger over Louis’s jaw where the scar that Henry’s fist left is. Louis hates the way it makes him flinch, but Harry is so gentle, so careful, as he leans forward and kisses over it.

“You’re never going to see him again,” he promises. Another kiss. “It’s over, baby. It’s over now and you’re here with me…”  _ Kiss.  _ “And you’re safe…”  _ Kiss.  _ “And I love you.”  _ Kiss. _

Louis near enough crumbles again at that, letting Harry easily cuddle him back in. He takes a deep breath and moves to settle against Harry’s body, kissing at his neck. “I’ve never been gladder to have you in my life than right now,” he admits. “For years I’ve been rehearsing that conversation in my head, literal years. And I think if you hadn’t been there I’d have crumbled a lot sooner than I did.”

“You didn’t crumble,” Harry murmurs. “You’ve reacted emotionally, sure, but this isn’t crumbling. You’re gonna wake up tomorrow and feel like a new person because you’ve done it. The conversation has been had and you never need to worry about having it again, because god forbid you ever run into him in public again but you’ll be able to just walk on by. It’s over forever, baby.”

Louis shakes his head. “Make me understand what I did to deserve you.”

“I adore you,” is all Harry says. “I’m just as lucky to have you in my life.” He kisses Louis on the forehead. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

He offers Louis his hand and leads him to the bedroom where Louis finds himself perched on the end of the bed as Harry mills around. He slowly starts to unbutton his shirt, which is pretty disgusting from all his snot and tears and sweat, and Harry doesn’t even make a comment when he chucks it in the vague direction of the laundry hamper rather than putting it away as he should. 

They shower together after that and Harry is extremely gentle, generous with his touches, keeping Louis tucked close to him for the whole thing. He washes Louis’s hair and scrubs his body clean, taking the time to touch him and kiss him and murmur soft words that he can barely hear over the water. Louis still feels weirdly numb so he pretty much just lets himself be manoeuvred around at Harry’s mercy. 

Once they’re out of the bathroom, teeth cleaned and hair dried, Harry finds him some clean boxers and one of his old uni t-shirts to sleep in before bundling him into his arms and wrapping the duvet around them.

In the familiar warmth and the low light of their bedroom, it’s easier for Louis to focus on Harry properly. Like this, he can pretend they’re the only two people in the world, so he tucks himself closer and kisses Harry until he physically can’t anymore, trying to show him everything he’s feeling but doesn’t know how to properly say with words through his kisses. 

_ Thank you. I love you more than anything. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I really don’t know how to say thank you enough.  _

When he wakes up in the morning he feels like he’s hungover, head spinning and achy and his body still feels tired. He blinks a few times to orientate himself and realises it’s still dark outside, the spring sun not yet risen, and it’s also freezing cold. He rolls over onto his back and reaches for Harry, who grunts and frowns as Louis tucks himself closer to him, chasing his body warmth. 

“S’time?” 

“No idea, sorry baby,” Louis mumbles, taking a deep breath in as Harry’s strong arm curls around him and draws the duvet up around them tighter. “Didn’t wanna wake you.”

“Don’t mind,” Harry mumbles back as he nuzzles his nose into Louis’s cheek. He presses a kiss to his temple. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Louis murmurs. He wonders if Harry can tell that it’s a bit of a lie. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” Harry kisses him again. “Got you in my arms, don’t I?”

In spite of everything, Louis smiles. “Soft bastard.”

“Mmmm, love you so much,” Harry hums. “Sleep with me.”

Louis can tell that Harry isn’t awake enough for him to make a joke about the double entendre, so he murmurs the words back and tucks himself up small against Harry’s warm, soft body and lets sleep pull him back under. 

He wakes up a few hours later to Harry lying on his side, smiling down at him, stroking his hair. Normally he’d call him a fucking creep and push him away, but he doesn’t feel like that today. This morning he feels warm as Harry grins at him, his movements not slowing as Louis wakes up. 

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Louis lifts his arm up and pulls Harry into him, kissing him soundly even though neither of them have brushed their teeth yet. “How long you been awake?”

“Not that long,” Harry tells him, shuffling up the mattress and draping his arm across Louis’s body. “Glad you’re up now though. I missed you.”

“Loser,” Louis grins, knowing full well he’s going to go pink in the face just from that. He leans in for another kiss. “What do you wanna do today?”

“Whatever you want,” Harry says with a small shrug. “Do you wanna go and get breakfast?”

“Yeah,” Louis nods. “Let’s go and get breakfast.” He presses a kiss to Harry’s jaw. “I’m fine, you know.”

“I know,” Harry says, smiling. “Never thought you wouldn’t be.”

“Okay, good.” Louis sits up properly and rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Let’s go and be fine together then.”

So they do - they get dressed up in outfits they love on one another and head to their favourite cafe for a late breakfast. From there, they head into central London for a bit, dipping in and out of shops and purchasing little treats. They share an ice cream cone in Covent Garden even though it’s far too cold for ice cream and then catch the bus to Gemma’s to meet her for dinner, where they banter and bicker and laugh while enjoying good food and good wine. They get an Uber home and they’re barely inside their flat before Harry presses him up against the wall, pinning his hands above his head. 

“It’s torture being around you and not being inside you sometimes,” he grunts as Louis goes lax in his hold, head lulling back against the wall. “Drives me crazy when other people talk to you, when your attention isn’t on me. I just want you all the time.”

“ _ Harry.”  _ Louis already feels sloppy, incoherent, as Harry presses a thigh between his legs. “Shit, bedroom,  _ now.” _

They make love for what feels like hours. Harry presses inside Louis slowly and pushes him over the edge again and again, until he’s shaking and sweating and doesn’t know anything that isn’t Harry Harry Harry. 

Harry presses kisses to whatever part of Louis’s skin he can reach, soft presses of lips that make Louis feel so cherished, adored,  _ happy.  _ He tells him he’s beautiful every time that he comes, calls him sweetheart and darling and every soft name that Louis never thought he’d like but actually loves when Harry says it. It’s white hot heat and electric touches and Louis feels tears start to leak from his eyes at one point, but Harry just wipes them away and kisses him, tells him that he’s loved and he’s safe, so safe and loved. 

It’s overwhelming but it’s exactly what Louis needed, and once again he says a silent thank you that Harry is his. 

“I don’t actually get angry when you talk to other people you know,” Harry hums, which draws Louis out of his post-orgasm daze. “I like to think our relationship is fairly healthy, for the most part, and that includes letting each other talk to other people.”

Louis is so tired he can’t even register what Harry just said. “Huh?”

“What I said earli- you know what? Nothing.” Harry kisses him one more time before tucking Louis closer for a cuddle, his chin resting on the crown of Louis’s head. There’s a pause as they settle in close to each other, just enjoying the closeness, and then Harry goes, “You’re so cute and small. Like a tiny pixie boyfriend, it’s so cute.”

“You know, just because I wasn’t listening a second ago doesn’t mean I’m not now, you big jerk.”

Harry chuckles and kisses Louis on the forehead. “Just checking, my small darling.”

Louis pinches him on the back of the neck. “Piss off.”

Harry giggles and just holds him tighter. 

Louis could very well drift off to sleep like this, but he wants to stay awake and just  _ be.  _ He’s always a little bit aware that he’s fucking minging after sex and there’s still a little part of him that wants to distance himself from Harry because Henry would never cuddle him until they’d both showered. 

But that’s not his life anymore. This is. 

Harry couldn’t give a shit if he’s got spunk on him because he’s the one who put it there. Harry couldn’t care less if he’s gross and sticky and sweaty because they’ve just made love, for fucks sake, and it’s fine. It’s fine to be gross with your partner after sex and it’s fine to be angry for a bit because he’s had to spend so much of this relationship justifying normal behaviour to himself that he feels like they’ve lost time. 

But they haven’t, nor really, because Harry is absolutely the love of his life and they’ve got the next seventy-odd years to make up for lost time. 

He’s got everything he ever wanted right here in his arms. And that’s the best feeling in the whole world. 

*

Louis doesn’t think he’ll ever stop being surprised at how quickly an opening night sneaks up on him. 

It’s been two and a half months of some of the most intense and emotionally exhausting rehearsals of his life, long days and early mornings and late nights where Louis has pushed himself to the edge of what he thought he was capable of. He’s laughed, he’s cried, he’s gone home to Harry and broken down, convinced he wasn’t good enough for this role, but he’s here. He’s made it. 

It’s opening night for the latest revival of  _ Joseph and his Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat  _ and Louis is about to step out on stage in his coat of many colours for the first time ever. And he’s  _ nervous.  _

Harry’s on the second row, sat in the middle next to Lottie. He doesn’t need to see him to know he’s there because he’s had about three hundred text messages about how great their seats are and for Louis to break a leg. It makes him smile despite the nervousness in his bones, his leg unable to stop twitching under the dressing table. 

“Can you stop?” asks Isaiah, one of the other blokes in his dressing room. He’s playing Simeon. “I’m trying to eat my sandwich in peace.”

“Sorry,” Louis mumbles. “My boyfriend keeps texting me from his seat and it’s making me nervous.”

Isaiah snorts. “He’s a keen bean, isn't he? Straight in as the doors open?”

“That’s my Harry,” Louis says, half fond and half miffed. He knows Harry means well but it isn’t doing anything for his nerves. “You got anyone in the house tonight?”

“Yeah, my boyfriend is coming too,” Isaiah nods. “He’s still at the bar with my mum though, I think. Perhaps not as keen as your boy.”

“I don’t want to sound rude, but nobody is as keen as my boy,” Louis says dryly. “He’s not even a boy, he’s a 25 year old man who’s too excited for his own good.”

“It’s nice,” Isaiah says with a smile. “Don’t knock it. It’s quite sweet that he’s so excited to see you.”

Louis smiles and looks away so he doesn’t show himself up to be the sappy, soppy dickhead who still feels so shy about performing in front of his super fan boyfriend, even after a year together. “Yeah, I mean. I still can’t work out if having people I know in the audience on opening night is a good or a bad thing for my nerves.”

“Me neither,” Isaiah admits. “My boyfriend and I have been together for five years and I still get nervous knowing he’s in the audience. Isn’t that weird?”

“Yeah, like on a real level I know Harry won’t leave me for anything, especially not a poor performance, but I still…” Louis swallows, almost scared to admit it out loud for fear of coming across too vulnerable, even to himself. “I want him to be proud of me always. And their opinions of us mean more than any critics, even though they’re only going to give us glowing reviews, you know?”

“I do know,” Isaiah says solemnly, then sighs before he drains the last of his water bottle. “S’weird, ain’t it? And something I don’t think any of us will ever, like, stop worrying about.”

“Yeah,” Louis says. “S’weird.”

“Oh come on lads,” Benjamin, who has probably gone on to become Louis’s best friend on the production aside from Carrie, says. “For fuck’s sake, Louis, we all know that Harry would be impressed if you put a bag on your head and went on stage and screamed. Same with you, Isaiah, and same with me and my girl. We got this. It’s opening night and we’ve worked our fuckin’ asses off to get here and we’re going to smash it, yeah?”

“Yeah!” is the resounding cheer from the rest of the lads in the dressing room, followed by some laughter. It’s good to laugh, even if it’s clear that it’s a tense laugh, the nerves of every cast member visible on their faces or in their speaking voices. 

_ “Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats. Tonight’s performance is about to begin.” _

“Fucking hell,” Louis swears, taking several deep breaths as the 5-minute warning sounds over the intercom. He takes a final swig of his water before he follows the rest of the guys through so they can set themselves up on stage, ready for the curtain to go up. 

He’s wearing a beige shirt and trousers, nothing on his feet, and he’s been growing his hair so it hangs loosely around his ears, not quite long enough to touch his shoulders but getting there. He catches a glimpse of himself in one of the mirrors as he walks by and even he can admit he doesn’t look half bad. He certainly looks the part. 

His part. His dream part in his dream show, where he’s about to go out on stage to a full house of 2,286 people. 

This is exactly where he wanted to get to, and he’s here. And he’s going to enjoy it. 

He passes Carrie in the hallway as they make their way to their starting positions and she claps her hands when she sees him. 

“You look incredible,” she chirps, giving him a quick hug before she moves over to her starting point. “Break a leg, darling!”

“You break a leg!” Louis calls after her, the music in the house loud enough to drown them all out. 

The lights go dark around him and the audience goes silent as the opening bars to the first song start to trickle out from the orchestra pit, and he has to smile. 

This is it. He made it. 

He closes his eyes, the curtain starts to draw back, and he takes a deep breath. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading, you’re amazing and I love you. Please leave me some kudos if you loved it and follow me on twitter @lesbidirection if you want to see me attempt to write some more fics again/ramble generally about 1d :)


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